


The Human Condition

by r0sie



Series: The Human Condition Series [1]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: #LetCrutchieSayFuck2018, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, As in like, Blind Character, Blind Race AU, Canon Disabled Character, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, There's lots of fluff, an unhealthy glimmer of ralbert, angsty sprace, check the TWs before reading friends, davey is ace, fast burn, newsbians, no, slow burn?, the fire takes their relationship captive immediately & doesnt let go, there's light social drinking and cursing just so ya know, they'll be there if it's any worse than drinking n cursing, who's that?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-03-01 01:42:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 25,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13284288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r0sie/pseuds/r0sie
Summary: Your stereotypical coffee shop AU where Crutchie & Jack meet at the shop where Jack is a barista. Jack, Race, and Spot are roommates. Overalls.There's lots of laughs and some budding drama. Tune in if you like sporadic updates and projection.Work title is from Jon Bellion's album and all of the chapter titles are going to be song titles because I'm a nerd.A quick note:characters with disabilities don't exist to fulfill some kind of angst necessity- their inclusion in this fic is because truthful representation is important. their struggles aren't your angst content. I include them because it's reality for a lot of people and that's necessary to represent along with the LGBTQ+ community, POC, etc.This has been a PSA, now on to some fluff!!!





	1. Jackie Hears the Ocean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title based on the song Papi Hears the Ocean from The Band's Visit

“Jack, go home”.

Jack knew Katherine was talking to him, but her voice sounded like he was underwater. He struggled to comprehend what she’d said for several seconds before responding.

“Huh?”

Distantly, Jack heard Race and Katherine talking in the kitchen, and he leaned up against the counter, unwilling to put in the effort required to join in the conversation. He was just too tired today. 

“Hello? Excuse me? Are you okay?”

Jack realized sluggishly that there was a customer in front of him, and by the concerned look on the guy’s face, Jack had been ignoring him for a while. 

“I’se sorry”, Jack slurred, “long day. What can I’se be getting for ya?”

The boy, whose stunningly green eyes Jack had finally focused in on, began to respond when Katherine pushed her way between Jack and the register. 

“No,” she stated firmly, giving the blonde customer a quick wave and a 'one moment' signal before leading Jack to a stool near the kitchen door, “you need to go home and rest. Everyone within a 10-mile radius can tell that you’re feverish and you zoned out on Crutchie for good 30 seconds while he tried to get your attention. I’m helping him and then clocking you out”.

With that, Katherine stalked up to the register, her reddish-brown curls swinging behind her. Jack’s febrile mind remained on Kath’s words. Apparently, the cute boy with the blue scarf’s name was Crutchie. What an odd name, Jack thought. Maybe it was a nickname. Jack would like to find out. As far as he could tell, Crutchie and Katherine were friends. He hoped that all they were was friends, because damn, he’d like to...he stopped himself, but not before the thought sent a light blush creeping up his neck. His delirious consciousness floated back to the movie he and Race had watched a few nights ago on Netflix. Carpe diem, Robin Williams had said in it, seize the day.

Jack pushed himself off of the stool and lurched over to where Katherine was putting the lid on a cappuccino labelled ‘Crutchie’. Clumsily, he reached for the cup, where he was immediately intercepted by Katherine.

“Jack, what are you doing? I told you I’d be back in a sec,” Katherine rolled her eyes at the boy who almost drunkenly leaned into her.

“Making Robin proud,” Jack whispered in her ear and he snagged the coffee cup from her grasp. Katherine just rolled her eyes and gave him an equal-parts confused and pity-filled glance before going to help a waiting customer.

Crutchie was slouched against the pick-up counter, watching the whole exchange with a lopsided smile that turned into a slight smirk as Jack nearly tripped over his own feet while giving Crutchie a little wave. 

“Here’s you’s coffee,” Jack said as he finally made it to the counter, fully intending to turn on the charm despite the urge to vomit that was gathering in his gut.

“I’ll make you another one Crutch,” called Katherine laughingly from the cash register, “since Jack just covered your’s in flu germs”.

“No big deal,” Crutchie shifted slightly, “I’ve already had it this year, so I’m good to go”.

He shot Jack a little grin, which didn’t help the wooziness Jack was already feeling. It occurred to Jack that he was still holding Crutchie’s drink. He put a steadying hand on the counter, afraid the dizziness would overcome him if Crutchie dared smile again. 

Crutchie eyed the drink in Jack’s hand. “Hey, I’ll make ya a trade. Kath said your name’s Jack, yeah? Okay, Jack. If you give me my coffee, I’ll give you my number. I think it’s a fair deal”.

Jack momentarily struggled to comprehend the situation before setting the coffee down on the counter.

“Here’s my end of the bargain,” he smirked, hoping that the contents of his stomach wouldn’t make a reappearance in front of this extraordinarily adorable human in front of him. 

“Guess I did agree,” Crutchie nodded, faking an exasperated look while he held out his hand for Jack’s phone, which Jack almost dropped in his haste to hand over. It was then that Jack blearily took note of the crutch dangling from Crutchie’s forearm as he took the phone, the crutch’s tip making its way back to the linoleum as Crutchie typed his number into the keypad.

Well, there’s one question answered.

But Jack still had a million unanswered questions about the boy named Crutchie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is short and leaves much to be desired. I promise I'll get there! I'm working on building the world n such the more inspired stuff will come a lil later. Please leave feedback:)


	2. The First Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack really needs to take better care of himself aLSO CRUTCHIE HAS SECRETS??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from the song The First Goodbye from The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee

Jack watched Crutchie make his way toward the exit, leaning heavily on a twin pair of forearm crutches, the top of his coffee held only by fingertips as it hung under the crutch grip where the palm of his hand rested. The glass door had just closed behind Crutchie when Jack slid to the ground, dizzy and unable to focus on his surroundings. Katherine’s worried face swam before him for a moment before he blacked out.

When Jack awoke, he was lying in the back seat of an unfamiliar car. He groaned slightly as the throbbing returned to his temple along with waves of nausea. Rubbing the bleariness from his eyes, he propped himself up on an elbow and tried to focus on the murmuring coming from the front of the car. As his eyes cleared, he saw Katherine in the passenger seat, and a bit of blonde of hair peeking out above the driver’s seat that he was behind.

Katherine noticed Jack shifting in the back and immediately honed in on him. 

“This is why I told you to stop working”. She reached back and pressed a hand to his burning forehead as she spoke, staring him down with a look that was somehow both patronizing and genuinely caring. 

“Okay, mom”, he responded bitingly, gently pushing away her hand.

A laugh came from the seat in front of Jack,

“He’s right Kath, you are 100% the mom friend,” Crutchie said, giving Katherine a friendly punch on the arm and smiling at her before turning his attention back to the road.

Jack gave Katherine a stunned look that she would later describe as having a ‘deer in headlights’ effect. She understood exactly what he meant.

“Oh, yeah, I flagged down Crutchie after you passed out to give you a ride home. I would’ve had Spot do it, but we can’t really afford to have two workers leave and I wasn’t gonna leave you alone with only Spot to take care of you”. She scoffed as if that was a situation sure to end in disaster. Jack could admit, she was probably right, but he could still think of better options than having the cute guy that Jack was considering asking out drive him home while he was passed out with the flu. 

But, it was too late. What was done was done and the best thing Jack could think of to do was change the subject. 

“So, uh, how do you two know each other?”

Katherine looked to Crutchie to answer, obviously trying to allow the conversation to be between Crutchie and Jack. Jack wasn’t sure if he appreciated the effort. 

Crutchie appeared to pick up on the hint and said, “Kath volunteered to show me around the school when I transferred from Santa Fe to NYU. We have a couple journalism classes together, so we’re study buddies sometimes. Are you in school?”

Jack perked up immediately, “Yeah, I go to NYU too. Junior art major. So, you’re from Santa Fe? Why’d you move, do you miss it?”

After several uncomfortable seconds of silence, Jack began to get the impression that Santa Fe may be a sore subject for Crutchie, and he opened his mouth to apologize when Crutchie spoke. 

“NYU was my dream school and I took the opportunity. That’s all”.

Though he sensed there was more to the story, Jack left it alone. He barely knew the guy after all, and he was still feeling out of it. All he wanted to do was sleep; in fact, Jack was seriously contemplating just going back to sleep in the car when they arrived at his apartment. 

Katherine opened the door next to Jack and helped him out, holding tightly to Jack’s arm as he swayed dangerously upon standing. Crutchie rolled down his window and Jack could see that the car had hand controls.

“Need any help?”, he asked.

Katherine shook her head, “Nah, I think we’re good. Thanks for the ride. Oh, and remind me to send you an article I finished this morning. I’d like another set of eyes to edit it before I send it in”.

“Can do,” Crutchie said before turning his gaze to Jack, who melted discernibly under those green eyes. “See ya, Jackie. Maybe we can hang out sometime, if you promise not to pass out again”. 

With a slight laugh, Crutchie rolled up his window and drove away.


	3. Angel On The Wing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Angel On The Wing from the Wonder Woman score

Even before Jack opened his eyes, he could tell that he was on the couch in his apartment. The cushions underneath him weren’t comfortable enough to be his bed and the room was too bright to be his bedroom. He groaned inwardly, facing a life or death quandary: did he go back to sleep on the couch or move to his bed?

His raging inner monologue of angst over the possibility of moving was interrupted as he felt someone sit down on the other end of the couch. 

“Are you awake yet, asshole? I’ve been bored out of my mind without you incessantly blasting your crappy music and yelling at me over things I can’t control like the weather, which is like four degrees, by the way. I dared step outside this morning and I think my tongue froze, like, immediately. It’s so cold that Lin-Manuel Miranda tweeted about pouring Magic Shell over your hands and letting it freeze into chocolate gloves this morning and I wanted to try it before I realized that I have nessun indizio what the hell Magic Shell even is. So I just went to the corner store and bought some cioccolato since that seemed like un’opzione altrettanto buona…”

Of course it was Race. Jack loved his roommate, but seriously, the kid could talk for hours (it was no wonder he was in pre-law- he was great with words) and would eventually end up speaking fully in Italian if no one stopped him. Jack hadn’t even given a response to let Race know he was awake, and Race had finished with the weather and moved on to a rant about how Spot kept moving his shoes so he couldn’t find them. 

Jack kept still a few more minutes, hoping Race would give up and go away, but he had no such luck. Blinking, he sat up slowly, noting that his fever seemed to be broken. 

“Morning”.

“Finally,” said Race, “I thought you might dead or something”. As Jack’s eyes adjusted to the light, they were immediately drawn to one thing.

“Race, are you wearing...overalls?” Instantaneously, Race adopted a loud, obnoxious, and overly exaggerated southern accent.

“These here overalls gotta be the comfiest darned thing I ever did wear,” he drawled, “I figured you’d better get used to seein’ ‘em since you’ll likely be wearin’ ‘em all the live long day once you move down yonder tah Santa Fe”.

“Just...Race….why?”, Jack rubbed his eyes and he fought back a smile at Race’s choice of clothing. He had paired the overalls with his favorite socks (which were covered with Justin Trudeau’s face) and his favorite beanie was pulled low over his forehead. He still had a leather jacket on from his trip to the store, his folded up white cane and aviators in the pocket, which brought together a look Jack wasn’t sure anyone but Race could pull off. 

Race stood up, shaking his arms out of his jacket to reveal a Chance the Rapper hoodie under the overalls, which Jack was pretty sure belonged to Spot. Rolling his eyes, he reflected again on his interesting living situation. He and Race were roommates, but at some point, Spot had stopped leaving. Spot and Race spent so many nights together, Jack hadn’t noticed when Spot no longer went back to his apartment. Nobody had ever discussed the change, nor did Spot ever admit to living there. Jack guessed he just had two roommates now. 

Race had turned on the television for background noise (which drove Jack crazy, but he was the one who’d agreed to room with the most extroverted person he’d ever met) and made his way to kitchen, where he began playing Italian rap loudly.

“I”M MAKING FOOD DO YOU WANT ANY?”, he screamed to Jack over the outrageous bass that always seemed to accompany Race’s music choices.

Jack sighed, turned off the television, and stood up, rubbing his temples in an attempt to ward off the headache that Race’s music was instigating.

Joining Race in the kitchen, he poured himself a cup of coffee and turned down the knob on the speaker until he could hear himself think again.

“Hey,” protested Race, “I was listening to that”.

“It’s not like I turned it off,” Jack mumbled, “and it was giving me a headache”.

“Ah yes, our resident flu victim,” Race said, faking a pout and feeling around the cupboard he had open until he found the powdered sugar, “how ya doin? I’m making french toast if you’re feeling up to it. Spot’ll be home from work in a few minutes and he mentioned wanting some”.

“I’ll stick to my coffee,” Jack responded, feeling nauseous at the thought of food, “but my fever’s broken already so I think it hit me pretty mildly. But drink your OJ man, we don’t need our only provider of home-made food getting sick. Without you, we’d order pizza every night”.

It was true, Race loved to cook and frequently made delicious Italian dishes for his friends. He'd come a long way since his first attempt back at it after losing his eyesight. There were still scorch marks on the ceiling from that whole experience. After much trial and error, Race had returned to cooking nearly all the meals in the apartment. They had to be more careful with his baking, however. The one time he had ever baked anything other than bread, he’d made brownies for a Big Brother viewing party. 

They’d all gotten so high that Jack had made out with Romeo, one of Race’s friends, on the fire escape. Jack couldn’t be too angry about that though; that was the night he’d finally come to terms with the fact that he was bisexual. He’d had a hard time accepting his feelings since he’d grown up with a father who’d hardly approved of the LGBT+ community.

Leaving Race to manage the food, Jack went back to his bedroom. He figured now that he was up, he should probably get started on a few rough renderings that were supposed to be done before one of his art classes the next day. He had just settled into a comfortable position and begun a light sketch of an old-fashioned typewriter when his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, immediately grabbing for it when he caught a glimpse of the name on its screen.

CRUTCHIE: how ya feeling? the flu really sucks:(

Jack smiled. He’d momentarily forgotten about his chance encounter with an angel. He didn’t think he’d be forgetting again anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far I'm introducing characters so slowly, but it'll pick up (hopefully). I have to force myself not to add too much detail so I take a long time on not much happening. sorry. the ever-growing list of random headcanons I'm using for this fic is really odd so maybe I'll post it as a chapter when I'm done because I laugh when I look at it.


	4. You Okay Honey?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from You Okay Honey? from Rent

CRUTCHIE: how ya feelin? the flu really sucks:(

JACK: better now that I’m talking to you:) 

CRUTCHIE: wasn’t aware that I had magical curative properties. should I use my powers for good or evil?

JACK: I met you for like 10 seconds and I can already tell you’re not capable of intentional evil

CRUTCHIE: actually, once, this kid in bio wouldn’t stop asking me for pencils every day and then keeping them. so I went & bought a special non-#2 pencil that wouldn’t work on scantron & waited for a test day…

JACK: you did not

CRUTCHIE: he was really confused when he got a 0%

JACK: you’re unbelievable

Distantly, Jack heard the door close and Spot yell a gruff greeting (or what passed as one for Spot). He was considering getting up to say hi and refill his empty mug of coffee when his phone buzzed again.

CRUTCHIE: since you’re feeling better, do you think you’ll be recovered enough tomorrow to go get some coffee?

JACK: wish i could, but I have projects to finish when I'm not in classes tomorrow. but you said you’re immune right? my fever already broke & me n my roommates are having a movie night tonight if you want to come over?:)

CRUTCHIE: that sounds like fun!! shoot me an address & a time & i’ll bring some snacks!

Jack gave Crutchie the desired information and locked his phone, a grin playing across his still-pale face. Movie night counted as a double date, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is short af, sorry. I have some laughs planned for when Crutchie comes over though, not to worry. Also, note that I actually did the pencil thing to this kid named Kai that sat behind me in bio who frequently harassed me so he deserved it.


	5. Step One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we finally see Spot, yaay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Step One from Kinky Boots

Jack was nervous. Genuinely nervous. Combined with the fact that he was just getting over the flu, Jack wasn’t feeling his best. Which, to be honest, only made him more nervous. It was quite the vicious cycle. He checked his watch for the 10th time in the past minute, and pulled a pair of clean sweatpants out of his drawers. Crutchie would be here in only 15 minutes and he didn’t want to be a complete slob. He figured maybe he should change his shirt too, in case it smelled bad since he’d been wearing it all day. Wait, did he smell bad? Should he take a shower? 

Jack told himself to calm down. He barely knew this boy- why was he so eager to impress?

Jack knew why, but ignored his own racing heart in favor of changing into his only other clean shirt (he made a mental note to do laundry later) which was unfortunately covered in small splatters of green and yellow paint. Jack froze. 

He hadn’t finished the renderings that were due tomorrow.

Shit. 

There was a knock at the door and Jack realized he was still wearing the old sweatpants and had left the clean pair on his bed. Clumsily, he struggled to change as quickly as possible, hoping he could get to the door before his roommates, who (double shit) he’d forgotten to inform of Crutchie’s invitation.

He heard the door open and nearly ran to intercept any initial exchange between his roommates and Crutchie. In his haste, his foot caught on the edge of the easel set up right outside his bedroom door, and he went crashing to the ground, catching himself on his hands. Jack let loose a creative string of curse words as Spot began to laugh raucously at his misfortune.

Pulling himself up on the back of their armchair, Jack saw Race sitting on the couch, lips pressed tightly in an attempt to keep himself from bursting out laughing. One of the straps from Race’s overalls was dangling, unhooked, down his back, and Jack was sure the knock at the door had interrupted something. If anything, Jack’s untimely faceplant was sure to have killed any remaining mood in the room.

Cheeks burning with embarrassment, Jack made his way to towards the door, where a familiar voice started to speak.

“How is it that everytime I see you, you end up on the floor?”

The normal Jack would’ve had a thousand flirty responses, but today, Jack was flustered and tired. So, like any person who has just suffered a major embarrassment and wishes nothing more than to just sink into the floor right then and there, Jack changed the subject.

“Don’t just make him stand there in the doorway, Spot, let him in,” Jack said to the shorter boy, who was still masking snorts of laughter as he leaned into the open door. Crutchie inched his way into the apartment, laden down with several bags hanging awkwardly from the hand grips on his crutches. 

“Damn, Crutchie, didja bring us a whole kitchen?”, Jack grinned at Crutchie and paused a moment to take him in, feeling the same flash of unwarranted affection as he’d felt at Jacobi’s coffee shop the day before. He shook his head slightly as he forced himself back into the moment. 

Jack reached for the bags, saying, “Let me take those for ya” at the same time as Spot gave a few blinks of recognition. 

“I know you!”, Spot put one hand on top of his head, like he did when he was thinking, “you’re in my...uh...bio class. Yeah, knew you looked familiar”. Crutchie gave a little nod and shot Jack a faintly amused look.

“Yeah, Spot, right? You sit behind me. Never have a pencil on you, do ya?”, Crutchie’s eyes sparkled as he joked with Spot. 

Jack had a flash of realization, followed by an all-consuming desire to just kiss Crutchie. He ignored the last part and focused on what the joke had meant, his face slowly growing into a wide smile.

“What?”, asked Spot.

In a quick moment, Jack and Crutchie locked eyes and basked in the solidarity of knowing that Crutchie had used the payback of all paybacks to smite Spot, and Spot had absolutely zero clue about any of it.

Unable to hold it in any longer, Jack nearly ran into the kitchen so that Spot couldn’t see his face as he began to laugh uncontrollably, joined by Crutchie a few moments later. 

Crutchie spoke once they both managed to get their breathing under control.

“I can’t believe Pencil Guy is your roommate”.

Jack snorted, “Actually, it’s totally believable. I doubt he ever realized what happened either”.

They stood for a moment in stillness, still giggling silently at the revelation. 

Then, with a “Well, Crutchie, what blessings did you bring?”, Jack began to unload the bags onto the kitchen counter. The amount and variety of homemade baked goods was astounding. Jack’s heart absolutely melted.

‘He bakes’, Jack thought, ‘he’s funny, adorable, and he BAKES’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack is clumsy, Crutchie bakes, could this chapter's HCs be any more unoriginal


	6. New Mate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from the song New Mate that is part of the score for Napoleon Dynamite

“Um, no,” Race was saying to Spot as Jack and Crutchie emerged from the kitchen, carrying plates piled high with baked goods, “we should most definitely watch Napoleon Dynamite”.

Spot sighed, scooting ever so slightly closer to Race on the couch.

“Race, that movie is shit. Actual, literal, horse shit. Nobody likes it. It probably got like 1% on Rotten Tomatoes and the 1% was just for the line ‘Eat your lunch Tina, you fat lard’ and also for the tot pocket. That movie sucks, Race”.

“No babe, it’s a cinematic masterpiece. It’s iconic”.

“Race, that movie had like a $2,000 budget. It was destined to be crap from the start. There’s barely any good music in it and there is no plot. The most iconic thing about Napoleon Dynamite is the Vote for Pedro shirts”.

Jack leaned a little closer to Crutchie, highly aware of the proximity, as well as the fact that Crutchie smelled like freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and what Jack could only describe as sunshine.

“They have this same argument every weekend. Every weekend, Race wants to watch Napoleon Dynamite and we shoot him down every time. I don’t even know why he still asks”, he whispered to Crutchie, enjoying the debate from where Spot couldn’t see him. Spot liked nothing more then to drag Jack into the Napoleon Dynamite fight.

“I’ve actually never seen Napoleon Dynamite”, interrupted Crutchie, shooting a quick apologetic look at Jack before facing Spot and Race. Spot turned to face Crutchie, mouthing ‘NO’ dramatically.

“Perfect,” announced Race, beaming, “we’ll watch Napoleon Dynamite”.

Jack and Spot groaned. 

“How many times have you seen this movie, Jack?”, Crutchie asked, making his way to the coffee table and setting down a tray of gooey butter cake squares.

“Too many to count,” Jack responded in an ominous tone.

On the couch, Race cocked his head slightly.

“Yo, new kid, I never got your name”

Crutchie glanced over at Race before continuing to arrange the food.

“I’m Crutchie, it’s nice to meet you”.

Race chuckled slightly.

“That explains a lot. Like the clicking noise when you walk.”

Crutchie shot Jack a slightly confused look before settling his gaze on Race and taking him in a little more thoroughly, finally noting his unfocused eyes and the cane folded up and placed in the front chest pocket of his overalls. Jack shot an amused look at Spot as they both watched Crutchie’s face go through a range of expressions, finally ending with a look of realization.

“There ya go,” murmured Jack and Race turned his head slightly towards him.

“He just realized, didn’t he”, Race smirked. Crutchie cleared his throat.

“I’m still here guys,” he gave a little wave and Jack laughed, heading over to the cabinet to find the movie. 

“Well,” he said, “if we’re gonna sit through an hour and a half of hell, we better start it now and get it over with”. 

“Damn straight,” grinned Race, “and just for the record, it got a 71% on Rotten Tomatoes”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Race is a little shit and I love him. Lots of dialogue, not much character development, sorry. Also, for anybody who's unaware, gooey butter cake is one of the most delicious things on the planet, but nobody outside of St. Louis knows what it is??


	7. Brilliant Disguise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some language just so ya know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Brilliant Disguise by Bruce Springsteen

Jack dug through the unorganized stacks of DVDs as Spot settled down in the armchair, since it was nearest the plate of chocolate chip cookies, and after a brief flirtatious debate concerning seating arrangements, Race joined him. Popping in the disc, Jack joined Crutchie on the couch, awkwardly aware of the jumbled mess of limbs that was Spot and Race as he sat stiffly next to Crutchie. 

Jack’s nerves suddenly came flooding back as We Are Gonna Be Friends by The White Stripes began to play behind the opening credits. Distractedly, he fiddled with the small hole in the knee of his sweatpants, unsure of what to do with his hands since all he wanted to do is throw an arm around Crutchie. A steady hand stilled his fidgeting one and a quick smile from Crutchie pulled Jack from his thoughts as their hands slid into one another. Giving the union a quick glance, Crutchie gave a tiny nod of satisfaction and went back to watching the movie.

As the minutes passed, Jack and Crutchie moved unconsciously and almost imperceptibly closer to one another until they were pressed up close together. Despite Jack’s fears, the nearness was comfortable and natural, and Jack gave a soft sigh of contentment as Crutchie’s head came to rest on his shoulder. 

An hour later, the credits were rolling and Race grinned. 

“See what you were missing out on all these years Crutchie?”

There was no answer and Jack looked down to find that Crutchie had fallen asleep.

“Yeah, I don’t know Race. I mean, he fell asleep, so I’m sure he found it really exciting,” said Jack in a slightly mocking tone, but inside he was swelling with affection. There was a sweet blonde boy asleep on his shoulder and he was finding it hard to focus on anything else. 

“Awww, and I’m sure he’s sleeping all angelically on your shoulder and it’s probably fucking adorable, whatever,” responded Race, just as mockingly.

Spot shifted, “Actually, that’s not too far off,” he grimaced, “also Race, your bony ass is digging into my thigh, so move it”. Race groaned and moved so his legs were thrown over Spot’s sideways, an arm wrapped around Spot’s shoulders as he sat on the arm of the chair.

Not ten seconds later, “Wait...Race, is that my hoodie? I’ve been looking for that for weeks!”

Race shrugged endearingly and ruffled Spot’s hair, saying, “I like it. Plus I’ve literally been wearing it all day and you didn’t notice”. Spot frowned, patting his hair down. 

“It’s the exact same as every hoodie you own”.

“It’s softer”.

“It can’t be softer, Race, it’s the exact same brand as half of your hoodies”.

Crutchie began shifting next to Jack as Spot became agitated, even more so when Race remained calm as ever. This happened way too often for Jack to be fazed by it; he knew they considered having silly arguments a method of loving one another and they rarely became actually angry.

“Is the movie over?", Crutchie mumbled into Jack’s shoulder, his face flushed with sleep.

“Yeah,” Jack responded, brushing a piece of blonde hair out of Crutchie’s face with his thumb, “it’s only like 7:30 though, you must be really tired”. Crutchie sat up and smiled, though it seemed forced. 

“I’m fine, just been a little short on sleep lately”.

“If you say so,” said Jack, “but don’t overwork yourself kid. School’s important, but way harder when you’re too tired”. He’d learned the hard way his freshman year that pacing himself was important when he’d ended up in the hospital on an IV because he was so dehydrated. “Drink your water, get your sleep,” he grinned at Crutchie, who nodded. 

“Yeah, okay, Jackie. Hey, can you hand me one of my crutches? I left my water bottle in the kitchen”. Jack handed it over.

“Don’t get lost,” he joked, and leaned forward to grab another gooey butter cake bar, still hearing Crutchie calling him ‘Jackie’ and he smiled. The nickname was endearing. Jack eyed Crutchie's right leg as his toe dragged a little more behind him than it had when he'd arrived. Jack assumed he was just tired. It occurred to Jack that Crutchie probably dealt with pain a lot. Jack quickly pushed the thought away. He didn't like to think about Crutchie hurting.

As the clicking noise ever-accompanying Crutchie faded from the room, Race leaned forward.

“So,” he rubbed his hands together like a scheming madman, “is he cute?”

“As hell,” Jack responded without hesitation, and then blushed when his brain caught up with his big mouth. Spot nodded thoughtfully. 

“Smart, too, if biology class is any indication," Spot said, and then lightly protested as Race ran his fingers through Spot’s hair, already back on Spot’s lap. Jack didn’t believe for a second that Spot wasn’t enjoying the attention. 

“But it’s so soft,” complained Race, “and the only time I’ve actually seen your hair is when it was in a buzz cut and I always wanted to know what you looked like with longer hair”. Spot folded his arms. 

“So, petting me is the solution?”.

“Yes,” said Race resolutely. In a rare moment of public intimacy, Spot pressed his forehead against Race’s, lightly kissing him. 

“Fine, then. Whatever. Pet me and call me Spot. You may as well just get a dog”. Race perked up immediately. 

“Ooh, can we?”.

Spot shook his head vigorously, saying “No, we most definitely cannot”. In an effort to prevent the subject of getting a dog being further broached, Spot looked around. 

“Is Crutchie still in the kitchen?”, he asked.

“Yeah, he said he was just grabbing some water,” responded Jack, standing up, “I’ll go check on him”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay. movies. cute cuddly bois. fluff.


	8. What Only Love Can See

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from What Only Love Can See from Chaplin: the Musical

Crutchie was hunched over, forearms resting on the counter with his weight on them when Jack strode into the kitchen. His cocky, flirtatious demeanor melted away when Crutchie hesitantly met his eyes, and Jack felt somehow confused until he realized that this was the first time that they’d made eye contact and Crutchie hadn’t smiled at him. It wasn’t that Crutchie looked sad or even remotely upset. He just didn’t look happy, and Jack mourned a moment for the smile before telling himself that getting validation from Crutchie’s lips couldn’t be healthy. Jack wanted to grin at the thought of it anyway, but he forced himself to return to reality, where he was beginning to be worried because Crutchie still hadn’t said anything. 

“I know I already kind of asked, but are you sure you’re okay?”, Jack asked. He didn’t want to be overbearing, but he already cared way more about this boy than he could admit quite yet. A corner of Crutchie’s mouth twitched, as if to frown. 

“I’ll be fine,” he breathed toward the counter, where he’d turned to face again, dropping eye contact, “just a little stiff from sitting so long. Side-effect of being me”.

Guarded. That was the expression that had puzzled Jack when Crutchie looked at him. Crutchie was hiding something, and from what he’d finally admitted, Jack was willing to bet Crutchie wasn’t feeling too hot. 

It occurred to Jack to he knew nothing about Crutchie’s disability. Through observation, he knew Crutchie struggled with his right leg, but beyond that, Jack didn’t even know if the situation was permanent, what had caused it, or how long Crutchie had been dealing with it. He wasn’t quite sure how to begin this conversation.

“Crutchie,” Jack paused, thinking through what he about to say, “I’se can see that you’re hurting and trying to hide it from me. Just because your leg don’t work right doesn’t give me permission to ask invasive questions, so I’se just here to say that we got ibuprofen and a heating pad if you need it. And, uh, I’m glad you found your water bottle”. 

By the end of his little speech, Jack’s eyes had found the floor. He was typically wary of offering help, having been pummeled multiple times by a frustrated Race after over involving himself. And that was before he’d gone blind.

Crutchie blinked several times. Whatever he’d been expecting, that clearly wasn’t it. 

“I, uh,” he cleared his throat, “I appreciate it. I really like you Jack, and we can have that discussion soon, but for now I think I’ll stick with taking that ibuprofen offer?” He offered a small smile, and Jack took a moment to process the seemingly inconsequential words that had come after ‘I really like you’. 

“Sure thing, yeah,” he sputtered, “and just for the record, I...well...uh, I like you too”.

He turned, both to go find the ibuprofen in the bathroom and to hide his huge dopey grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s so short but so are all my chapters I’m not apologizing
> 
> EDIT: just letting y'all know that I don't know how long it'll take for me to get up the next chapter. I have my first college audition this weekend ('tis the season, wish me luck!) and school starts back up next week, as do my dance classes, and the rehearsals for the 2 shows I'm are starting to really pick up too. Hopefully, maybe getting in some writing will calm my nerves on the way up this weekend, but we'll see!


	9. Preparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Preparations from Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812

As a manager at Jacobi’s Cafe and Eatery, Katherine had quite a bit of responsibility. It was stressful enough without factoring in all the crazy kids employed there, but she wouldn’t have changed a thing. They were like a family. But if the Jacobi’s team was a family, David Jacobs was her work husband. An impressively motivated and intelligent individual, Katherine knew she could always count on her assistant manager.

She’d never considered him a close friend, but right now she needed his help. 

Davey was working behind the counter, since Elmer had called in sick last minute. Katherine was going to kill Jack if it turned out that Elmer had the flu. 

“Hey, Davey, can I talk to you in the office for a moment? I’m on break in 10 minutes and it’s not busy in here. Spot can keep on eye on the register”. Spot didn’t typically work directly with customers since he wasn’t exactly great with other people, but he covered the counter every once in a while. 

She walked back into the small room they called the office, even though it was really too small to fit even a desk. It was just a tiny room lined with chairs with a small file cabinet in the corner. Davey left the door cracked and sat in the nearest chair, Katherine pulling a chair over so they sat face to face. As Davey’s hands began nervously fidgeting in his lap, Katherine realized he probably thought there was a problem. Her usual clipped, business-like attitude frequently led to assumptions like that. She smiled at Davey, hoping she looked reassuring.

“I have something I need your help with. It’s nothing big and you don’t have to help if you don’t want to, but I trust you and I’d like to consider us friends”. Davey looked initially confused, but quickly recovered, settling back into his typical serious self.

“Of course, I’m always here for you. What is it?” The slightly concerned look in Davey’s eyes led Katherine to believe that her smile wasn’t as reassuring as she’d hope. She dropped it.

“Nothing’s wrong, I’d just like it if you could keep Spot and Race out of the eatery during my break in a few minutes. I know they get off half an hour after I go on break, and I, well,” Katherine grinned unconsciously, “I have a date”. 

Davey broke into a smile.

“That’s so great Kath! Why no Spot and Race?”. Katherine rolled her eyes.

“I think they’ve made it their life mission to disrupt every romantic moment I have. They claim it’s coincidental that they’re always out at the same place and time I have dates, but I think it’s some kind of conspiracy to prevent me from ever finding love”. She sighed dramatically, a hand draped across her forehead in classic Disney princess angst.

Davey giggled lightly, a sound Katherine had never heard come from him. He was usually so serious. 

“Last time they saw me on a date, they told the server that it was my birthday and got the entire restaurant to sing along as they sang to me. It was not my birthday”. 

“That does sound like them. I’m happy to help. Who’s your date?”

“She was in my math class freshman year and she lives in my old apartment building. We’ve been kind of flirting when we pass in the halls for months”. Katherine felt the corners of her mouth creeping up as she thought about the casual touches and light conversation, the growing anticipation of meeting at 9:45 in the stairwell when they were both leaving for a 10 am Tuesday/Thursday lecture. There were days when Katherine would loiter in the stairwell, in the halls, hoping for a chance meeting, but too afraid to go knocking on the door of apartment 6b.

Davey’s voice broke her reverie. 

“I’ll do my best to keep them away. You should be good to go as long as I can convince them to use the back exit. Shouldn’t seem too suspicious”. 

 

“Thank you Dave”. Katherine breathed a small sigh of relief, realizing that she’d been unwittingly unsure of Davey’s response. The nerves she’d been feeling returned as she realized there were only five minutes remaining until break. 

Five minutes until, well...her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shenanigans coming right up.


	10. Dividing Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Dividing Day from The Light in the Piazza

“Holy. Shit.”

Katherine swiveled around to see Sarah standing by the entrance to Jacobi’s and her heart did a little tap dance. Sarah appeared somewhat less smitten, as her eyes focused on David, who was standing next to Katherine behind the counter.

“Language!”, he scowled. Sarah just laughed, walking toward the counter and sliding her coat off her shoulders.

“Ah, shut up. You should’ve told me you worked here!” An angry flush rose immediately on David’s cheeks.

“What- ? I talk to you about work all the time! You were the first one I told when I got promoted to assistant manager and I bring you coffee frequently. I cannot believe you”. Sarah paused, tapping her finger to her chin as she feigned thoughtfulness. 

“Now that I think about it, I do have a vague memory of you complaining about your hard-ass manager”. Katherine finally broke out of her haze of stunned confusion, taking a step forward, her head spinning slightly.

They knew each other?

“That would be me,” she said, relieved to have an opportunity to interrupt the increasingly tense conversation, especially considering Davey looked like he may pass out from embarrassment. She couldn’t be too angry with David anyway- at least he respected her and she was inclined to take ‘hard-ass’ as a personal compliment. A little healthy fear never hurt anyone. She wished Spot and Race would get that memo. 

Spot and Race! Katherine glanced around quickly, noting gratefully that they were still in the kitchen, and her momentary nervousness was replaced once more by confusion at Sarah and David’s apparent familiarity.

Katherine shot several glances toward the kitchen door as Davey stuttered out an apologetic explanation, attempting to remind him of his earlier promise. Her efforts were in vain, and Sarah continued to smirk at Davey’s flustered endeavor to calm down. Katherine hardly heard a word that was said until something caught her attention. 

“Dave, did you just say that Sarah is your sister?”

“Well, yeah. I-I mean, we’re twins. How did you know her name? Have you met?” Katherine flushed lightly, realizing that Davey hadn’t quite pieced the whole situation together. Sarah stepped in, noting Katherine’s discomfort.

“You can be confused here by yourself, Davey, but Kath and I have a date”.

And with that, Sarah looped her arm through Katherine’s and dragged her into the eatery, plopping down at an empty table for two. They could still see David from their seats, standing stock-still behind the counter, his mouth slightly open. Sarah just laughed and stuck out her tongue at him, prompting an eye roll before he disappeared behind the kitchen door.

“So,” Sarah leaned in toward Katherine on her forearms and Katherine breathed in the proximity, “how’s my fancy boss lady? I didn’t know you were a manager, you just told me you worked here!”.

“Yeah, I was promoted a few months ago. I’m still surprised about you and Dave. You two are so different, I never would have guessed you were twins. Honestly, I probably never would have guessed you guys were related at all,” Katherine responded. Sarah drummed her fingers on the table with one hand as she distractedly perused the menu with the other.

“We get that a lot. We’re more similar when Davey relaxes. He’s so serious, but when he’s with close friends and you get a few drinks in him, he really opens up. I like to say I have more in common with drunk Davey than sober Davey. It’s funny ‘cause it’s true”. Katherine nodded thoughtfully. 

“I could see that. You know, I’ve worked with Davey for nearly 5 months and earlier today was the first time I ever heard him laugh”.

A corner of Sarah’s mouth twitched downward momentarily before she spoke, “I worry a little about him sometimes. I wonder if he’s unhappy, or if the seriousness is really just his personality,” she shrugged, “I don’t know. Anyway, enough about my brother, this time is for us. What’s good here?” she asked, motioning to her menu. Katherine shrugged.

“I don’t know. The only time I eat here is when I’m in a hurry, and I just order a PB&J kids meal. I have no shame”. Sarah stared at her for a moment.

“Fair enough”.

It was at that precise moment that Spot and Race, arm in arm, walked into the eatery, David walking behind them, an ashamed and apologetic look on his face as he mouthed ‘I’m so sorry’ repeatedly. Spot stopped suddenly, Race following suit with a confused look.

“RACE,” Spot crowed, dramatically pressing a hand to his chest as if emotionally troubled, “our girl has a DATE and she didn’t tell us!” Race reacted immediately, pretending to faint against Spot’s shoulder. 

“I cannot believe it! Our manager, our confidante, dare we call her our,” he gasped in mock revelation, “friend, in light of her betrayal? Smite us though she may with her secrets, we, the true friends we are, are here for her in her time of need”.

Katherine pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers. 

“Screw you,” she mumbled. Race made a disappointed face.

“Young lady, we’ve raised you better,” he said patronizingly in a terrible British accent. Katherine turned to face him. 

“Well, then, fuck you”.

“Atta girl,” Race returned, beaming proudly. Katherine rolled her eyes. Sarah interrupted, never one to be shy in front of new people.

“I’m Sarah Jacobs, by the way”. Spot choked on the swig of coffee he had just taken, nearly spewing it all over Race.

“Hang on, ‘Jacobs’? As in, Davey Jacobs?”. David finally spoke up from behind Race and Spot. 

“We’re twins”. Race looked like someone had just moved Christmas up to tomorrow. 

“Kath’s on a date with Davey’s sister? How come nobody told us?” he looked personally offended. Katherine shot an apologetic look at Sarah, who just looked amused. 

“Because you do this,” she said, though less harshly than was really deserved.

“I don’t know what we’re doing wrong,” said Race, a troublingly innocent look on his face, “we’re just here to make sure you warned your date about your tendency to pour the milk in before the cereal as well as your disgusting fondness for country music”. Katherine sighed as Sarah made a maligned noise. 

“Country music?”, she looked affronted, “Really?” Katherine shot a withering look at Race, forgetting that he couldn’t see her, before responding defensively.

“It’s bluegrass and it’s good music”.

“Well, bluegrass I can accept, but I’m still on the fence about the whole ‘milk before cereal’ thing,” teased Sarah, sliding a hand over Katherine’s and smiling at her. Katherine allowed herself to become lost in Sarah’s warm, inviting brown eyes and found herself leaning into the contact, wishing for nothing other than to be touching more, having more, feeling more. After a moment, she pulled her eyes away. Not here, not now. She did, however, turn her hand under the other girl’s, grasping Sarah’s hand and rubbing slow circles onto the back with her thumb. She heard Sarah sigh contentedly as she turned back to where Race and Spot were still standing. They weren’t going away without a reward for their annoyance, so Katherine figured, why not?

“Guys, Sarah and I were going to have a movie night in my apartment if you want to come. You’re welcome tonight if you go away now and let us have our first date in peace”. Katherine saw Race squeeze Spot’s hand in wordless communication. 

“We’re not busy, sounds good,” Spot said. Katherine nodded.

“Cool. Davey, you in?” David looked startled.

“Me? Oh, um, I guess so,” he stuttered.

Katherine figured if she was going to host a movie night, she may as well invite Jack and Crutchie too. Based on his texts about Jack, Katherine could tell Crutchie really liked him. She had no doubt that the feeling was mutual, and she liked nothing better than to set up two deserving guys.

So, it was settled. Movie night was on and Katherine had gotten rid of the date-crashers. Now it was just her and Sarah, holding hands across a small cafe table. 

It was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY Kath and Sarah are here!! I had a hard time writing this chapter, but once I got into the bantering, it was easier. 
> 
> Also, I have a note that doesn't necessarily have to do with this chapter, but just for the fic in general. I don't consider the parts of this fic where Crutchie or Race are struggling with something due to their disabilities to be "angsty" or sad. Especially for a canonically disabled character like Crutchie, what we consider a difference is a normality for people who are chronic disability warriors. Therefore, the idea of including the struggles of these characters is to raise awareness and to fight the generalizations about chronic illness or disability in current culture, not to create 'angsty' content for people to cry over. I've surprisingly met people who actually think that only old people are disabled, or that invisible illness isn't real. I'm not like 'subtweeting' anyone specific or anything here, I just think it's important that I put that out there, especially as the characters in this fic develop and there are more moments involving Crutchie and Race. In lieu of this statement, please call me out if I get something really wrong. I do research and have certain levels of personal experience, but that only goes so far. Thanks!!


	11. New Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some light kissing, just so ya know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from New Love by Pope

Katherine had not prepared to host so many people. She’d bought a bottle of wine for her and Sarah along with some popcorn and cookies, but she didn’t think that would be enough for one collegiate boy, much less five. She remembered the first time she’d seen how much Crutchie ate in one sitting- she was pretty sure the amount could feed a small village.

So, Katherine and Sarah were at Target, verifiably the most dangerous place on planet Earth. They made it safely to the snack section and grabbed some chips, dips, and  
cookies before making their way to the wine aisle and grabbing some classy options, knowing the boys were sure to bring the cheapest beer boasted of each grocery store in the area. Both of their shopping baskets now loaded, they headed towards the cash registers, cracking jokes and flirting as they attempted to ignore clearance racks. They were largely unsuccessful.

Five minutes later, Katherine and Sarah were crammed into a tiny dressing room, each with a stack of clothing they’d picked out for one another. Sarah had gathered Katherine a rather interesting collection of loose, flowy pants and crop tops, while Katherine handed Sarah a blazer covered with a skull and crossbones pattern and six pairs of sweatpants. They giggled and joked as they squeezed in and out of outfits in the confined space, laughing as they bumped into one another or the walls. Finally, they had tried everything on and they were left facing a messy heap of clothes. 

“Well,” said Katherine, “I vote we just buy all the sweatpants and call it a day”.

Sarah snorted.

“Agreed”. With that, they began to clean up, placing items back on their hangers and finding their personal belongings under the mounds of fabric. A few minutes later, Katherine let out a triumphant “aha!”.

“Here’s my other shoe!”, she grinned. She began to slip it onto her foot, but lost her balance, careening into Sarah, who ended up pressed between the wall and Katherine. The two paused a moment, their faces inches apart. Katherine’s hands were on Sarah’s shoulders from her attempt to catch herself and Sarah’s fingers brushed the exposed skin between the waistband of Katherine’s jeans and her t-shirt. Sarah exhaled lightly and the warm air tickled across Katherine’s nose, leaving a light smile ghosting her lips. The simple innocence, yet intimacy of the moment impressed a sense of seriousness into them both, and neither wanted to break the spell cast by their amalgamated bodies. Katherine was taken in by how soft Sarah’s lips looked. 

She wanted nothing more, had wanted nothing more since the moment they’d met.

Katherine gave into her desires, pressing her lips against Sarah’s, petal-soft. When Sarah gave a light moan of appreciation, her lips slightly parting against Katherine’s, the redhead slowly moved her hands from the other girl’s shoulders to her cheeks, feelings the silky smooth skin, hot and blushed with fervor. Sarah’s grasp around Katherine’s hips tightened, and they pulled impossibly closer together, breathing each other in for the first time. Sarah realized her eyes were closed when she felt Katherine’s fingers combing through her long, light hair, opening them just enough to see the fluorescent light hitting Katherine’s hair so it shone like polished copper. She smiled against the kiss, against her very own pretty penny.

The moment was broken when what sounded like a gaggle of preteen girls entered the dressing room, gossiping and cackling loudly. Sarah pulled away, gasping in air, then grinning as her eyes met Katherine’s. 

“Come on,” smiled Katherine, grabbing Sarah’s hand, “movie night’s not going to host itself, and I need some more alone time with you if I’m going to make it through an entire evening with those damn boys”. Sarah entwined her fingers more tightly with Katherine’s.

“I think that can be arranged”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter was going to be the movie night, but I got sidetracked, much like I tend to do at Target. I'm not sure from who's perspective the next chapter will be. I have it mapped out from several perspectives, so we'll see which one I use! Maybe I'll flip back and forth. Forgive my rambling, but seriously, let me know who you want 'narrating' the next chapter. Basically, the options are Race, Crutchie, and Davey, since they're all characters who need more development. So, does Spot, but his moment's coming later, I swear. Lmk and have a good weekend pals!


	12. I've Got You Under My Skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from I've Got You Under My Skin by Cole Porter

Race loved when the group got together for movie nights. Naturally an extrovert, he was definitely in his element hearing everyone’s banter and cracking his own jokes, throwing in his typical side comments about the film. The rumble of his friends surrounding him was warm and comforting, like a wool blanket of sound, very different from the unfamiliarity of public places. When he could see, Race loved clubs and busy coffee shops. But the sense of control he’d had in such hectic situations went away with his eyes. He’d never realized how the loud pulse of club music could cause him to lose all sensation of where was and who he was with. Even though he’d never mentioned his discomfort to anyone, Spot had begun planning movie nights instead of nights out, and in the end, the entire group ended up enjoying it much more than getting wasted every weekend. 

Race was loudly singing Weird Al’s Star Wars parody of American Pie while making homemade pizza rolls to bring to Kath’s when someone walked into the kitchen. Race heard the footsteps, but didn’t stop singing. Shame? What was that? Race didn’t care who heard him belt Weird Al at the top of his lungs. Plus, the only people it could logically be were Spot and Jack, and honestly, he’d done much worse/more embarrassing things around them.

Whoever it was started loudly making coffee. Race wanted to know who it was, but he didn’t like asking. He waited a moment for the other person to say something, join in with the song, anything really, but his impatience got the better of him.

“Did you know that female anglerfish absorb their male counterparts to use them for reproduction? That’s why any anglerfish that are big enough for you to spot are female”.

Spot’s gruff voice answered him, “Why the hell do you know that, Tony?”

Race smiled slightly at hearing the love of his life. He had gotten in the habit of spouting random, useless facts when he wanted to know who was there without asking.

“National Geographic”, he said smugly, his fingers following his fork pressing into the edges of each pizza roll to make imprints. Just because they were essentially homemade junk food didn’t mean Race wouldn’t make them fancy as fuck.

“Whatever you say. When you’re done taking three hours to make something we could’ve bought in the freezer food section at Walmart, I’m going to bake some cookies,” Race heard the refrigerator open and a few seconds later, mugs clinking together, “coffee?”, Spot asked. 

“Sure,” Race said, holding out his hand for the warm mug of black coffee that Spot shoved into it a  few seconds later, before returning to the counter to make his own heavily sweetened concoction, pouring in the milk and replacing it in the fridge. Race knew he could use some caffeine. The last few days had been hectic as he had finished all his finals before winter break and he hadn’t gotten to catch up on sleep yet since he’d had to work that morning. He couldn’t be too upset about that though, since it had led to the crashing of yet another one of Katherine’s dates. It was one of his favorite hobbies, and this time it had ended with an added bonus: movie night. Race put his mug on the counter to finish his task and popped the pan into the oven. Grabbing his mug, he wrapped both hands snugly around it and leaned against the counter. Spot had stopped clanging around, but Race knew he was still there, and a sudden craving for a touch gathered in his gut. Race took a quick sip from his mug, ignoring the feeling. It didn’t work. As the yearning sensation continued to grow, Race felt a disconnect. It was too quiet and all he could feel was the hot mug burning in his hands. Combined with an all too familiar darkness, his sense of drifting intensified, functioning to further his desire to hold onto Spot for dear life. Usually he felt this way at night, in the quiet. The doctors said the insomnia developed from stress, but Race thought maybe it was the lack thereof. He needed stimulation, arousal. It was too quiet. Much too quiet. He put his mug down. 

“Spot?”, he said quietly, a contrast from his usual brashness. Race reached out and within moments, he felt Spot’s cheek brushing against the back of his hand. He stroked his thumb over the other boy’s cheekbone and then brought his hand down to cup Spot’s chin and took a step forward, finding Spot’s lips with his fingers and, a moment later, his own lips. It took him only a few seconds more to wound his fingers up in Spot’s hair, and Spot broke off, laughing, a sound that sent Race’s heart swooning all over again. He didn’t get to hear it often, and he would never tire of it.

“You’re petting me again,” said Spot, trying to be condescending, but failing as another small uncharacteristic laugh bubbled from him.

“Do it again Sean,” said Race, low, his hands still buried in the other boy’s hair. He wanted to see Spot smile.

“What?”, said Spot, sounding confused, “kiss you?”

“No,” said Race, “laugh”. Race felt Spot pause, then move closer until his warm, coffee-scented breath tickled Race’s nose. 

“Make me”.

 

A few hours later, Spot and Race arrived at Katherine’s apartment. They walked up to the door, Race’s hand nestled naturally in the crook of Spot’s arm.

“We’re so late,” said Spot, running his hand through his hair, trying unsuccessfully to tame it. The boys had forgotten that Katherine had moved off-campus recently, and hadn’t given themselves enough time to get there. Katherine had even reminded them earlier, spilling that it was the reason why she had finally asked Sarah out- with no more chance hallway meetings, Katherine decided she had to say something. And, yeah, also they’d just been running late anyway. 

Spot knocked on the door and it opened it a few moments later. Spot snorted.

“Nice to see Kath extended the invitation to you too”, Spot said and Race could hear the smirk in his voice. Race gave Spot’s arm a squeeze and Spot leaned in.  

“Sorry, it’s Jack”.

“Yeah,” said Jack, “and I’ve been waiting for your cookies so you better get in here and pay up”.

Race sucked in a breath. Whoops.

“What?”, asked Jack. Neither of them said anything.

“Spotty, you’re blushing”, Jack smirked. Race took over, as Spot obviously wasn’t going to tell Jack why his blessed cookies had been forgotten..

“We got...distracted, sorry Cowboy”. Race could picture in his head the exact face Jack was making in this moment. Jack was good at pushing innuendo just by making a face, and that combined with the thought of his best friends...well, Race could imagine the look. Race had never been closed off about his sexuality; he loved that part of Italian culture- the sexual openness and self-awareness instead of negative body consciousness was refreshing. Race leaned closer to Spot.

“He’s making that face, isn’t he”.

“Yeah”.

Jack scoffed loudly, “well, enter if you dare lovebirds. Bathroom’s the door to your left, kitchen’s over there” and with that, Jack left them to deal with the tupperware full of pizza rolls on their own. Race assumed Jack had pointed toward the kitchen. Very unhelpful.

“Do you want to come with me to the kitchen or stay in the living room?”, Spot asked. Race frowned. He’d never been in Katherine’s new apartment before, and she was now the only one of their regular group who had an apartment he’d never actually seen. He didn’t know if he’d ever feel at home in a place he’d never seen. He figured someday he’d get used to this, but he wasn’t there yet. It frustrated him, but for now, he’d stick with learning the layout the way he’d been taught a year and a half ago. He wouldn’t let the frustration show. If he pretended to be okay with it, maybe eventually he would be.

“I’ll come with you. Stick the pizza rolls on the counter and then show me around. Who’s here?”

Spot began walking, “We’re in the living room, and Jack, Crutchie, Sarah, and David are here. They’re on the couch and chairs to your left. I bet Kath’s in the kitchen. I don’t know who all she invited, but this is probably it”.

Race was surprised David was there. He wasn’t a usual part of their group, though Race had hung out with him before. Race figured it was a good thing. He got the sense that Davey had a hard time making friends. As many jokes as Race cracked at his friends’ expense, he cared for their well-being.

They veered slightly to the right and Race’s free hand brushed the short end of a wall. He assumed there was a sort of half-wall between the living room and kitchen areas, similar to his own apartment. Spot verified it a moment later. 

“Hey Kath,” said Spot, walking a few more steps into the kitchen. Race heard Spot put the tupperware down on the counter and inched one of his feet forward until it hit something solid. Counter=identified. He would come back for some of his pizza rolls later, after getting a lay of the land. 

“So, Katherine, does Sarah look at all like Davey?” Race grinned devilishly, “Because if they look anything alike, does it weird you out to think of kissing your assistant manager? Or is that what you like about her?”. There was a pause, then he heard Katherine stalk out of the kitchen. 

“She flipped you off, but I could tell she was trying not to laugh, so you’re in the clear babe,” said Spot, “Let’s go find a place to sit. They probably already took all the real seats”.

“You go ahead, I’m going to grab some pizza rolls,” Race had already located the paper plates on the counter, “want anything?”

“Nah,” said Spot, heading through the archway to the living room, “I’m good”’.

Race sighed as he loaded a plate with pizza rolls. Spot had forgotten to show him where everything was, but he wasn’t going to push it right now. The red solo cups were next to the plates and he felt around the perimeter of the room until he found the sink, filling his cup. 

He wondered what movie they were going to watch. He hoped it was one he’d seen before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this instead of writing my psych essay yayy. enjoy, leave feedback, ya know the drill!!
> 
> PS the other half of the movie night is coming later!!


	13. Thunder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Thunder by Imagine Dragons

Crutchie slipped into the kitchen while Jack and Katherine were arguing about what movie to watch. It was getting a little overwhelmingly loud, and he had a job to do anyway. Race was leaning against the sink when Crutchie made his way in, a red solo cup dangling from his fingers. He appeared lost in thought, not moving until Crutchie accidently clanged the pan against one of his metal crutches. 

“Whaa-?”, Race jumped, then cursed as the liquid in his cup sloshed over the edge onto his jeans. 

“Dammit, sorry man, I didn’t mean to startle you, you looked pretty distracted,” Crutchie grabbed the dish towel draped over the oven handle. Race placed his wet cup in the sink and had one hand searching the countertop.

“You’re fine, I was just lost in thought,” Race replied. Crutchie realized Race was looking for the napkins, which were mere inches from his wandering fingertips. 

“Here, I found a dishtowel,” Crutchie stood uncomfortably, waiting for a lost-looking Race to respond. After a moment, Race reached his hand out awkwardly in front of him, and Crutchie quickly stuffed the towel into it. Crutchie watched as Race dabbed at the wet spots on his jeans and then crouched down to find any water he’d spilled on the tile. He wanted to help, but wasn’t sure how. He was rarely on this side of awkward encounters. He was prone to clumsiness, but because of his leg, people either rushed to help him whether he needed it or not, or they avoided him like he had the plague. As Crutchie struggled with his inner compulsions watching Race find the water puddles one at a time with one hand, he realized this is how those people felt. He didn’t like that. 

“Okay, well, I’m just going to pop some cookie dough in the oven unless you want some help, since I basically caused this mess?”, Crutchie laughed lightly, in an attempt to ease his own discomfort. Then, he mentally slapped himself, because it wasn’t Race’s fault he was uncomfortable, and it shouldn’t be up to Race to make Crutchie feel better, even if it was through something as simple as cracking a joke about his struggle. Crutchie knew how that worked first-hand. Race ignored the proffered help, but his head snapped up.

“Cookies?”. Of course that’s what he heard.

“Yeah, me and Jackie were out all day and we didn’t have time to make something so we picked up some pre-made dough. Jackie says he hates it, but I didn’t want to show up empty handed. I just need to cook it”.

“What brand is it?”, Race asked.

“What?”

“Is the the one with the blonde girl in a red bonnet on the lid?” 

Crutchie wasn’t sure why Race was interested, but he glanced at the tub and answered, “Looks like it”. Race smirked. 

“Everyone here loves that kind, even Jackie, they just don’t know it”. Crutchie was completely lost on where Race was going with this. He felt like he had missed the punchline to some joke Race was telling. Race elaborated before Crutchie could ask, apparently picking up on his confusion.

“What I’m about to tell you cannot leave this kitchen. You must take this knowledge with you to the grave. Understand? I’m only telling you this because you’re Jack’s boy”.

Crutchie didn’t really understand; they were talking about cookies, right? Whatever. His mind distractedly lingered over the phrase ‘Jack’s boy’. He liked it.

“Yeah, sure,” Crutchie nodded. Race leaned forward as if to tell an intimate secret.

“You know Spot’s ‘famous cookies’, the ones Jack can’t stop raving about? It’s just store bought dough”.

Ever the gossip, Race looked ridiculously excited to be sharing this news. Crutchie just chuckled. 

“I don’t know Spot very well, but that does sound like him,” Crutchie suddenly realized that this ‘secret’ was Race’s way of welcoming him into the friend group. He really appreciated the effort and he felt the sudden need to reciprocate.

“You think THAT’S a good Spot story? I have a good Spot story…” and within minutes Race was doubled over in laughter about Crutchie’s pencil prank.

Crutchie took a moment to hold his stomach, trying to stop giggling.

“You know, Race, I think you and Spot really are a great couple. You guys are adorable together and even someone on the outside can tell how much you love each other. I’m honestly kinda jealous”.

An emotion Crutchie couldn’t identify passed briefly across Race’s face. 

“Thanks,” he said expressionlessly. The joviality of the previous moment had passed and Crutchie was now keenly aware of a new tension surrounding Race. Race fiddled with his cup for an awkward moment before finding his plate full of pizza rolls on the counter and making his way out of the kitchen. 

Crutchie wasn’t sure what he’d done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's short and choppy, not my best work. I'm busy:/ More coming soon!! Pls leave feedback!!


	14. We Are All the Same Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from We Are All the Same Thing from The Gringo: A New Musical (this was actually recorded in my home city of St. Louis and I have a couple friends in the original cast that got to record. I'd encourage everyone to check it out on Spotify, it's pretty cool and you're supporting small, regional works!)

Crutchie emerged from the kitchen, a few batches of cookies fresh out of the oven, to find the movie finally decided upon. Race had joined Spot on the floor, backs against the couch where Crutchie joined Jack after putting the plate of cookies on the coffee table. 

“Here,” Jack handed Crutchie his phone, “we’re watching Call Me By Your Name very illegally, so we’re all donating to an LGBTQ+ cause to make up for it. We all figured $10 since that’s about what you pay for a movie ticket”. 

“How ethical,” Crutchie grinned, already typing his debit card information into his charity of choice’s website.

“Yeah, Spot came up with it,” Jack said, shooting an amused down where Spot was laying with his head on Race’s lap, Race’s fingers inevitably combing through the other boy’s thick, dark hair. Spot’s eyes shifted toward the couch at the mention of his name and mumbled something unintelligible through his mouthful of pizza rolls. Race rolled his eyes.

“Babe, no one knows what you just said because your big mouth is too full of the pizza rolls you said you didn’t want me to grab for you”.

Spot grinned cockily as he swallowed the last of his apparent pizza roll ‘Chubby Bunny’ challenge and said, “What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is also mine”.

David spoke up from his chair, “Romantic”.

________

Two hours and twelve minutes later, everyone was crying. In a surprising turn of events, Spot had been the first to succumb to waterworks- he was caught when Race went to run his fingers through Spot’s hair again and felt the tears. Not that Race was all that shocked. He knew Spot was a total softie at heart.

“No offense Jackie, but I would run away with Timothee Chalamet in a heartbeat,” Crutchie was the first to speak as the credits rolled, wiping away a tear with the hand that wasn’t holding Jack’s.

“None taken, because same,” Jack teased, affectionately tousling Crutchie’s perfectly coiffed hair. Crutchie made no move to fix his now wildly disheveled ‘do and instead went in for a chaste kiss. A slight smile ghosting his lips, Jack pulled playfully away.

“Uh uh, no. You’ve been drinking beer and I’se don’t wanna taste that nasty shit”.

Crutchie rolled his eyes dramatically, “So, what, you’re too classy for beer?”.

Jack responded by picking up his pink moscato-filled solo cup and sticking out his pinkie daintily as he took a small sip. Crutchie responded with a less-dainty finger. 

Katherine looked on with an air of content, her legs flung over Sarah’s lap, as Jack and Crutchie continued to flirt, Race and Spot cuddled on the floor, and David refilled everyone’s solo cups. She couldn’t deny how freaking much she loved every one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, so this is super short even by my standards, but I had a really hard time finding something to write about. I have lots of ideas for when the characters are more developed, but not for right now. Stick with me, it gets better I promise! I was in rehearsal for two shows for a while, which explains the hiatus from writing. Now, I'm down to one, so I'm still busy af but I'm not exhausted! Please leave kudos or comments if you're so inclined!


	15. Perfectly Marvelous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from the song Perfectly Marvelous from Cabaret

Jack was holed up in his bedroom binge-watching Queer Eye with a plate of Race’s pizza rolls left over from the night before when he heard the knock on the door. Per the usual, he ignored it. He wasn’t expecting anybody, nor was he wearing a shirt. In fact, all he was wearing were his rattiest, oldest pair of sweatpants, and, sprawled out unflatteringly across his bed, Jack was definitely not prepared for company. He realized this fact as he heard Crutchie’s voice floating in from the living room. Nearly crashing to the floor as he leapt from his bed to his dresser, Jack searched for anything other than the dingy, paint-splattered mess he had the audacity to call pants. Somehow, Crutchie always showed up when Jack was unprepared, though Jack supposed the fact that he was a perpetual mess ensured he would never really be ready. For heaven’s sake, the two had met when Jack was down with the flu. 

Since Jack had a bad habit of ending up face-down on the ground when Crutchie was around, he figured trying his luck by attempting to put on skinny jeans standing up would never end well; so, Jack resorted to other means. He was laying on his bed, belly up, with his legs stuck straight up in the air, attempting to pull on his pants when Crutchie threw open the door to his bedroom.

There was a moment of deafening silence as Crutchie took in the scene. Then, with a slight shrug of his shoulders, he continued his conversation with Spot and Race through Jack’s now open door. Jack vaguely heard Crutchie and Race solidifying plans to make food together as he continued to tug at the waistband of his jeans. After a solid minute of effort, Jack realized Crutchie was just staring at him amusedly. 

Sighing heavily, Jack sat up and pulled off the offending pants. Now that he got a good look at them, it was no wonder they didn’t fit- they were Race’s. 

“Nice boxers,” noted Crutchie, smirking slightly. Jack had picked the ideal time to wear his Oscar the Grouch boxers that spelled ‘bite me’ across the ass. Fan-freaking-tastic.

In the end, Jack just pulled on a slightly less old and wrinkled pair of sweatpants. He glanced down to discover they were covered in flecks of dried orange and yellow paint. Well, you can’t have everything. 

“Aren’t you cold?” Crutchie inquired, plopping down on Jack’s bed after placing his crutches carefully against the wall and glancing at Jack's bare torso.

“Nah, I was in bed before you got here and I have a habit of nesting in all my blankets. I was comfy”.

“Well, sorry to have bothered you,” Crutchie offered genuinely.

“Like watching Queer Eye alone in bed was better than seeing you,” Jack scoffed, feeling himself melt at the adorable way Crutchie was examining the painting propped up in the corner. However, Crutchie’s attention shifted as soon as Jack mentioned the TV show.

“Queer Eye? I LOVE that show! I actually cried when the guy from the second episode got his haircut and I absolutely bawled my eyes out when third episode dude came out to his stepmom. Honestly, reality TV gold right there”. Crutchie’s enthusiasm was infectious. Jack swore he could feel his caffeine-craving, tired brain perking up just a little in the face of this ray of sunshine.

“I’se on episode five if you wanna keep watching with me,” Jack offered, hoping he sounded more casual than he felt. Jack wanted nothing more than to snuggle up with Crutchie.

“Yes, PLEASE!” Crutchie grinned, “I binged watched the entire season the day they put it on Netflix and have been wanting to go back and re-watch it again”. Crutchie tossed his coat into an empty chair and slid off his old yellow Converse without untying them because, as he told Jack, “I hate tying shoes”.

“If you want something more comfortable, I can lend you some sweatpants and a t-shirt,” Jack offered. He doubted Crutchie wanted to lounge around in the button down shirt and khaki pants he was wearing.

“Oh, yeah, that’d actually be great,” Crutchie said, glancing down at his clothing, “I had an interview for an internship this morning, didn’t want to look like to a total mess,” he chuckled, unbuttoning his shirt. Jack turned around to toss Crutchie the clothes and his breath caught in his chest.

Crutchie was ripped. 

Really and truly, he had the refined musculature seen on old statues of the Greek gods. Apart from what could only be adequately described as an 8-pack, the boy’s biceps and deltoids rippled under his skin. Jack suddenly felt a little self-conscious of his own body. Jack wasn’t overweight by any standards, but the several layers of cushioning over his own underdeveloped abdominal muscles suddenly felt akin to the girth of a sumo wrestler.

“Hey, Jack. Jack?” 

Jack realized he was still holding the extra clothes and quickly tossed them to Crutchie before turning back around to close his drawer and, he would never admit it, to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

“Thanks,” said Crutchie. Jack was still in a stunned silence, waiting as Crutchie finished changing. As he slowly returned to his senses, it occurred to Jack that he was awkwardly staring at Crutchie again. Averting his eyes, he cast about for another topic of conversation.

“Have you seen the statue they started displaying at MoMA? The one of Apollo, Greek god of the sun and music?”

Jack instantly berated himself. He hadn’t meant to express his own likening of Crutchie to a god out loud, but, well, here he was. The god of sun, nonetheless.

“Nah, I haven’t been to MoMA since I moved back to New York. I actually…”

Suddenly, Crutchie’s eyes grew wide.

“Right! I completely forgot the reason I came over here in the first place. It had to do with art, too. I was wondering if you would help me with something,” Crutchie smiled deviously. Though admittedly slightly afraid of his own premature desire to agree without knowing anything else, Jack nodded.

“Sure, what’s the idea?”

Crutchie’s green eyes twinkled as he responded, “I’m wantin’ to host a Bob Ross painting party in my apartment. My roommate's usually travelling for work, so it’s not like there’s anyone around to bother, and your boys are hilarious. I think they’d all get along really well with my friends. Plus, who doesn’t love happy little trees?”

Jack couldn’t do anything but laugh and agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is. shirtless Crutchie is god-like and the Earth is round.
> 
> good news!! I got into the musical theatre college program I wanted in NY! hooray! since I'm now substantially less stressed, there's a good chance I'll write more. here's to hoping anyway.
> 
> a note: go watch the Deadpool 2 trailer its fcking hilarious, and I feel like that trailer definitely was a part of Crutchie's sudden desire to host a Bob Ross party.
> 
> As always, please let me know if you loved it, hated it, or anything in between. Feedback is my best friend! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	16. Silly People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little baby interlude until we get to Crutchie's get-together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Silly People from Marry Me A Little

If anything could surprise Spot about Crutchie at this point, this was it. 

“He seriously wants to throw a Bob Ross painting party? Did he also ask you to bake your famous brownies? Because we all know nothing goes better with Bob Ross than your brownies,” Spot commented, nudging Race teasingly as they sat in bed, coffee mugs in hand.

“Haha, very funny,” Race retorted, “For your information, he did not, but you bet your cute little ass I’m gonna make them anyway”.

“How do you know my ass is still cute?,” Spot queried, “for all you know, I stopped doing my squats”.

“Well,” surmised Race, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face, “guess I’m just gonna have to make sure, won’t I?

________

Several minutes later, Jack walked into the bedroom to find his two best friends feeling up each other’s backsides and comparing them. Unfazed, he plopped down on the end of the bed.

“So,” he said in an attempt to gain the attention of the boys. Neither ceased.

“Hey Jack,” grinned Race, “who’s ass is cuter?”

“Mine,” Jack asserted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just because the party chapter is taking me longer than I thought, so here's a lil somethin to take the edge off


	17. Men of Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ok friends listen up
> 
> TW:  
> self harm
> 
> **if you need to observe the TW, please know that the section marked (1) can be skipped and I'll provide a summary of its occurances in the end notes. The section marked (2) is the aftermath of section (1) and so could still be triggering for some poeple. I'll also provide a summary of that at the end. Pls be safe kiddies!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Men of Snow by Ingrid Michaelson

It turned out they didn’t need to worry about scheduling the party around Crutchie’s roommate- apparently the guy was going to be in town for a while and figured he wouldn’t mind sticking around to participate in the fun anyway. 

“So, seriously, just pick a weekend, and we’ll see who’s available,” Crutchie said, pulling a loaf of homemade banana bread out of the oven.

“I’m pretty much free over the next few weekends,” shrugged Jack, “Race?”.

“Same. I’m not going home this year for break since mia famiglia is on vacation, so doesn’t matter to me,” Race confirmed. Crutchie nodded enthusiastically as he took his bread out of the pan to cool.

“Awesome, so I’ll set the date for this Saturday! You fellas think that’ll work for Spot, too?”

Race grinned, saying, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he comes. He promised me he was off work all this weekend yesterday when I complained about how much he’s been working lately”. Jack nodded, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

“He has been gone a lot now that you’se mentioning it,” he agreed thoughtfully, “but he’s off savin’ lives, so we can’t complain”.

“What does Spot do?”, inquired Crutchie. He couldn’t believe he was (as of a few nights and few glasses of wine ago) Jack’s boyfriend and still didn’t know what the guy’s roommate did. He’d figured Spot was paying his way through school with a job waiting tables or serving coffee (it was a fair assumption, since both Jack and Race worked at Jacobi’s), but the ‘saving people’ thing threw him off. 

“Spot’s a firefighter,” Race said, “he just takes the occasional biology or health class at the school to keep himself learning or in case he needs the knowledge”. 

Crutchie felt like he’d learned something crucial about Spot. As much as the man exuded a “no fucks given” air, Spot was really dedicated to his job and had enough passion to go above and beyond the expected. Crutchie found his respect for Spot growing. His surprise must have shown on his face, because Jack responded. 

“Yeah, he’s really a neat guy, just doesn’t let many people see it,” he said, checking his watch and giving a little jump. “Whoops, I gotta leave for work or I’ll be late. Don’t burn down my apartment and don’t forget to tell Spot about the party. See ya later”. In a hurried whirl, Jack pecked Crutchie on the cheek and closed the door behind him.

__________  
(1)

Race was as close to livid as he could get.

“Spot, you told me that you would be off this weekend so that we could spend time together. Shit, this is the fifth weekend in a row that you’ve flaked on our plans,” Race began gesturing angrily and wildly. “We haven’t left the apartment together since Kath’s movie night. I barely get a kiss goodbye before you leave in the morning and I’m half-asleep when you climb into bed at night,” his voice rose in volume and pitch and began to crack as he neared tears. “You fucking promised me. Mi addolora!”. 

His feelings threatened to overwhelm him, and the rational part of him struggled to understand why he was reacting so strongly. The angry part of him just wanted to hurt Spot. How dare he?

In a moment of unadulterated rage and grief, Race let out a noise like a wounded animal and lashed out, his hand connecting with the vase sitting on the end table, sending it smashing to the floor. The noise shocked him into silence. He felt like he couldn’t breath, his chest tight and his throat raw.

The two sat in the uncomfortable hush for only a few moments, but to Race it felt like years were passing and he was just drifting further and further away from Spot.

When Spot spoke, Race heard him as if through one of those cup and string phones he had made as a child. 

He wished he could go back.

“You’re bleeding. Don’t move, there’s glass on the floor. I’ll be back in a second”.

Race heard Spot moving away, out of the room. His head felt like sound was rushing through it at inhumane speeds, and he wasn’t sure if it was anger or relief. He kept hearing Spot’s voice in his head telling him not to move, there’s glass on the floor. Don’t move Race, stay where you are. Race, don’t move. Don’t move. 

Race stood up off the couch and took a few unsteady steps forward, his arms hanging limply at his sides. He could feel hot blood dripping down his fingers, but not the cut. There was no pain. Maybe Spot was lying or maybe there had been water in the vase or maybe he was broken like the vase. It didn’t really matter.

He could feel the shards of glass beneath his bare feet, could feel them sliding, bits of them crushing to powder beneath his heel. Minutes past as Race stood, stock-still and pale, on a sea of glass. It had just begun to hurt when he heard Spot’s voice again.

“Race. Shit, shit, SHIT. Race?”

(2)

Race sat numbly on the couch while Spot swept up the glass. He wanted to help, but his legs wouldn’t cooperate with his brain and all he could do was sit while his feet, bound in the thick socks Spot had immediately stripped off his own feet to give to him, throbbed.

He was so lost in the black hole of his mind that he didn’t notice when Spot sat down next to him. He jumped when he felt Spot’s hand on his back. 

“Its okay, babe,” Spot soothed, “you think you can walk to the bathroom so we can clean you up?” 

Race just shook his head, and without a second thought, Spot crouched backwards in front of Race, pulling the other boy’s long legs around his own waist. 

“Alright, babe, I need you to lean forward and grab on so I can help you”.

Race did, latching his arms loosely around Spot, but still saying nothing. Slowly, Spot stood, holding the weight of his entire world on his shoulders and holding in tears.

___________

1:07pm

SPOT: hey love, how r ya feelin?

RACE: fine

SPOT: i really tried, but my boss wont let me off sat nite

RACE is typing…

RACE has signed off

______________

Race could hear a slight rumble from inside Crutchie’s apartment, as if there were already people inside. He heard Jack knock once before just opening the door, nearly dragging Race behind him and he stepped into the apartment.

New places stressed him out enough when Spot WAS there to explain and describe. Jack did what he could, but Race and Spot got each other in a special way that was hard to replicate.

Once inside the door, the low rumble crescendoed to a dull roar. There was obviously way more people here than Race had expected. An excited voice stood out over the crowd.

“Jackie!”

“Hi...should I call ya Charlie since you’re crutchless tonight?”, Jack teased, pulling his elbow from Race’s grasp, presumably to properly greet his boyfriend. 

“Crutchless?”. Spot had described Crutchie’s disability to him before, and from the way it had sounded, Crutchie wasn’t walking without aid anytime soon. Also, his name was Charlie?

“Oh, hey Race. Yeah, I’m changing it up with a cane, since I’ve got tons of spoons right now and I’m technically supposed to use it and the brace around the apartment as much as possible anyway, according to my PT, but honestly, I’m not home much. Anyway, I’ve gotta introduce you guys to everybody!”. Crutchie said it all in one breath, obviously thriving in this wildly social environment. He and Race were similar in so many ways. 

“Sounds good, lemme just grab a drink first. Want anything, Race?,” Jack inquired. 

“Ya got any hard lemonade, Crutchie?,” Race asked.

“In the fridge!”, Crutchie responded, and Race could hear in his voice that he was still off-the-wall energetic. It occurred to Race that Crutchie had probably already had a drink. Of course his reaction was to just get more excited.   
Race assumed Jack had walked off to fetch drinks, but wasn’t sure what to ask of Crutchie. He still had his cane out from the walk over because, frankly, he didn’t trust Jack, so maybe he could just….find a wall? Wait for Jack to get back? He had no idea of the layout of the place.

“So, Race. Um, I can, like, show you around this area. Just, if you want? Or we can just go sit down?”

Race was glad Crutchie took charge, albeit awkwardly. He didn’t have the energy to. He also figured that trying to get around and memorize right now would be pointless because he could barely hear Crutchie over the noise.

“I guess we can just sit down for now,” he hedged. Why did going to a simple party have to be so. fucking. hard?

There was an awkward moment before Crutchie responded, “So, do I….just? My elbow?”.

Race put out his hand, saying, “Just let my hand rest in the crook of your elbow and walk normally”.

Crutchie snorted, “If only”.

_____________

Crutchie had invited quite a few people over, and there was no way Race was going to remember all of them. They all had nicknames, too, which were frequently due to some physical feature, which was really only helpful for Jack, who was desperately trying to keep track of who was who. 

“So, you’re Smalls, you’re Sniper, and you’re…” he paused for a moment, thinking, “Specs! Yeah ok, so I know Romeo, then Mush and Blink! I obviously already know Kath and Sarah, but...damn it, I forgot your name again”.

“Albert,” said the voice next to Race, “I’m Crutchie’s roommate”. He had a nice voice; it felt both rhythmic and anchoring. A very nice voice. 

“You’ll get it eventually Jackie,” assured Crutchie cheerfully, “but for now, help me set up all the supplies so we can get started”.

That’s when Race remembered his own contribution to the party. 

“Uh, hey Jack, where’d you put my brownies?,” Race asked, “I don’t think there’s enough for everyone, but that’s probably a good thing”. 

“Left em on the table by the door,” he managed before Crutchie pulled him away. 

“Bastard,” Race mumbled under his breath. Honestly, he was about ready to dive into those brownies. 

“Oooh harsh,” the voice next to him, Albert, laughed. 

“Better be nice or I won’t give you one of those brownies,” Race retaliated, though with a kinder tone. 

“Oh, and what’s so much better about your brownies than, say, the Whole Foods brownies I stress eat in my car?,” Race could hear the smile in the other boy’s voice, and he suddenly felt and hand lightly on his lower thigh.  
Was Albert flirting? The hand now moving slowly up his thigh and the breath so close he could smell the alcohol on it would suggest so. Race stood up abruptly. 

“Guess I’ll have to get them so you can see”.  
Getting Albert high probably wouldn’t make it better, but Race figured it couldn’t make it worse. Also, where was Jack? Race shrugged inwardly. He’d figure it out. After a short internal debate, he unfolded his cane with a wieldy flick of his wrist.

“Nah, that’s okay, sit back down,” Race could feel a warm hand tugging down on his arm as Albert spoke in his lyrical tone, “So, how do you know Crutchie?”  
Well, it couldn’t hurt to talk to the guy. Race took a swig of his drink.

“He’s dating my roommate, so no good story. How about you? How’d you meet him?,” Race responded, pulling his leg inconspicuously away from Albert’s again wandering hand. 

“I’d put an ad up for a roommate, just someone to pay half the rent and watch over the apartment since I’m out of town a lot for tours”.

“Tours?,” Race asked, taking a few more swigs of his drink, which he was starting to think Jack had spiked with a little something extra. A single hard lemonade shouldn’t have been making him feel this tipsy, even though he was a lightweight.

“Yeah, I’m an actor. Mostly live theatre- I do a lot of national tours of musicals, so I’m gone for months at a time,” Albert explained, unconsciously answering the questions Race would never admit he had about the musicality of Albert’s voice.

“That sounds awesome,” Race could hear himself sounding like a 12 year old boy, but his inhibited brain kept telling him to talk, “what shows have you done?”.

“My first tour was Billy Elliot and I just left the Cats tour that’s still going because I got a job with Hello, Dolly on Broadway,” Albert sounded proud, but not snobbish. That was good. Race hated snobs.

“Oh, so you’re a dancer? Must be pretty flexible,” Race smirked momentarily before being taken aback by his own words. Holy shit, did he just flirt? What about Spot, their relationship of so many years? What was he doing?  
Drawing himself out of his thoughts, Race prepared to tell Albert that, no, he wasn’t looking for a boy toy, yes, he was in a relationship. But, he was suddenly all too aware of hot breath tickling his nose, the feeling of Albert’s hand on his thigh, and he could swear Albert’s fingers just barely brushed his cheek. He inhaled softly, marveling at how safe he felt at the intimacy. He heard Spot’s voice in his head, telling him to ‘stay where you are’.  
Race felt Albert nip teasingly at his earlobe before speaking:

“I really am”.

And then, Albert kissed Race. 

Don’t move, Race. Stay where you are.

Race kissed him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) summary:  
> Spot didn't manage to call off for the following weekend and can't attend the party. Race is extremely upset because this has been happening far too often. Race punches a vase. The events of this scene are intended to make us question what exactly Race is struggling with that is surfacing as anger toward Spot.
> 
> (2)  
> Spot cleans up Race. 
> 
> Okay, PLEASE leave feedback. this was SUCH a hard chapter to write and I would love to know what y'all thought. I appreciate constructive criticism but please be kind. Ps my apologies for the events of this chapter.


	18. Red Shoes Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more coming soon, but I felt bad leaving y'all hanging for 2 weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from Red Shoes Blues from the Wizard of OZ

Jack hadn’t seen Race in over half an hour and through the haze of the party, the alcohol, and the special brownie, he was getting a little worried. Race had seemed tense all day, so Jack had spiked his drink a little in the hopes that Race would loosen up a little and have some fun. He was regretting both ditching Race and the whole drink decision while setting up mini easels on the coffee table along with equally small canvases. Nobody in the room knew where Race had gone, only that he’d been talking to Albert and then the next minute, they’d both disappeared. 

Jack found Romeo and, after detaching him from Specs’ face, sent him to help Crutchie finish bringing in the supplies. After closing himself in the bathroom, he sent a quick text to Race.

JACK: hey, u ok? where’d ya go?

Several long minutes passed before his phone dinged.

RACE: hall way

Jack quickly exited the bathroom and pushed his way through the little line that was forming outside of it. Once outside the apartment, he stopped short. Albert was standing in the middle of the hallway, Race’s cellphone in his hand. Race was sitting, back against the wall, quiet. Albert turned to face Jack and held up Race’s phone.

“He wouldn’t respond. I did. He hasn’t said anything at all, I think I did something but I’m not sure”.

“Race?” Jack said, worriedly and suddenly more sober than he’d been all night. Race didn’t move. 

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter. He shouldn't have texted you. He had no right. Please go back to the party”. Though his words were angry, Race just sounded sad.

Jack pressed Race’s phone into his hand.

“Please tell me what happened”.

Race turned his face toward Jack and there were tears in his eyes as he spoke, “Jack, I was serious when I said I don’t need a babysitter. And not everything is your business, especially not my mistakes. Please leave”.

“Race…” this time it was Albert, confused and pleading, “I don’t understand what happened”.

Race flinched and his fists clenched.

“Both of you, go paint. They’re probably going to start soon. I’m going to call my boyfriend”.

Albert made an audibly pained noise. The general situation dawned on Jack slowly, and even though he didn’t know the details, he knew Race well enough to tell that it wasn’t the time to push questions. Jack blinked several times, before breaking the almost mournful silence. 

“Come on Albert. Charlie’s probably waiting for us to start”.

And they went back in, leaving Race, phone clenched in hand, staring unseeingly at his red Converse.

He did not call Spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some craziness coming y'all prepare yourself. This is short, but I wanted to post something and I don't have all the kinks worked out of what was gonna be the rest of this chapter yet.


	19. Common Ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from Common Ground by Anthony Ramos

Jack couldn’t focus. The painting of a landscape he was supposed to be completing alongside Bob Ross had become an ambiguous blob that could pass as conceptual to the untrained eye, his hand drooping and the paint dripping as he lost track again and again. Jack was worried.

He kept finding himself walking toward the door to check on Race. The first time, Race had patiently told him to leave him alone. The second time, he’d screamed at Jack to stay the fuck away. The third time Race had iced out Jack, refusing to move or speak. 

By the time everyone else was halfway through their happy trees and muted landscapes, Jack had created a blend of colors that had stark, opposing figures scratched out of the center that gave the impression of conflict. Crutchie took one look and handed Jack the extra canvas and paints and told him he could take some quiet time in the bedroom if he wanted. Jack wanted. He usually didn’t worry about Race- Race had always been fine. Race was the funny, annoying, laughing friend who had a tendency to take care of everyone around him. Jack was just now realizing that it had been a while since he’d talked to the Race that he thought he knew. But, Race was always fine, right? He always said he was fine. Jack couldn’t shake the feeling that something was happening that went deeper than tonight’s events. He mind whirling, he set up the easel in Crutchie’s room and then went searching in the closet for a stool he knew Crutchie kept in there. 

The stool was folded up and shoved into the back of the closet, along with two sets of arm crutches, a folded up wheelchair, and several canes. The sheer amount of aids was overwhelming to Jack. It was easy to forget for how long Crutchie had been dealing with the crutches and chairs and canes and braces. Since he was 11, he’d told Jack. Staring at the collection of boring, monochromatic canes, a light bulb sparked over Jack’s head. 

He took the oldest, shortest, most used looking cane, poured his paints out onto the palette, and got to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this and the last chapter and a bunch more were all supposed to = one chapter but I've just been posting as I complete the final edits on sections because with the short increments of time I have to work, it would be another week before y'all got the whole chapter, and I didn't wanna make you wait that long. So this one is pretty short too.


	20. Twin Soliloquies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Twin Soliloquies from South Pacific

Everyone around Crutchie was having fun. They were all tipsy enough to think Bob Ross was absolutely hilarious, and very few people were actually following the directions. Crutchie didn’t care- everyone’s personalities came out in full force in this environment and he was enjoying the view. The episode was almost over, and Crutchie had seen it before recently enough that his painting was done. Not well, but hey, he’d tried his best. Instinctually, he headed toward the bedroom to check on Jack, but thought better of it. He didn’t know what was bothering his boyfriend, but Crutchie could only assume that it had to do with the fact that Race had left. He figured maybe Race went home because he didn’t want to sit around while everyone else painted, but he hadn’t asked any questions. Despite the great day he’d had so far, being on his feet constantly was beginning to take its toll, as typically happened once this time of night hit. The full, loud living room was beginning to become a bit overwhelming, the line to the bathroom was constant, the kitchen was crowded, and both bedrooms were occupied with sulking college boys. Crutchie didn’t know what Albert was so upset about, but he’d ignored it. Al had a tendency for dramatics and Crutchie had long stopped worrying if he had no concrete reason to. 

Since his entire apartment was apparently full to the brim of drunk and/or emotional boys, Crutchie slipped into the hallway to take a moment and breathe. 

He was surprised to see Race sitting against the wall right outside. Had he been here all night?

“Jack, how many times do I have to tell you to go away before you hear me? You’d think a party literally about painting would capture your, albeit short, attention…” Race rolled his eyes in exasperation. 

“It’s actually just me,” Crutchie said, smiling as Race’s eyes widened in surprise, “I sent Jack off to release his apparent feelings in private. I didn’t know you were still here though, thought you’d left”.

“Yeah, hey man, sorry about ditching. I guess it’s just been a long week”.

“I feel that”.

They sat together in silence for a few minutes, Crutchie massaging his leg slowly and methodically, working his way from his calf up to his lower back. When he finished, he let out a quiet sigh and leaned back against the wall. The slight exhale broke Race’s evident concentration on the mess inside his head.

“So, Crutchie, what brings you to my neck of the woods?” Race gestured grandly at the unassuming and empty hallway, an expression almost reminiscent of a smile on his face. Crutchie didn’t miss that even the ghost of the smile didn’t reach his eyes. 

“I’m guessing the same as you...I just needed a minute”.

Race nodded, then he shifted so he was facing Crutchie a little more before he responded. 

“Can I...is it okay if I ask you something kind of personal?”

Crutchie hesitated. He knew what was about to happen. Even Race, who couldn’t see the constant reminders everyone else could about what made Crutchie different, was bound to wonder. But, he liked Race. They were friends. And Crutchie had a feeling that there was something more to motivate this sudden intrusion. Crutchie allowed himself for a second to consider saying no- it definitely wasn’t his favorite topic. Most of the time, the people who asked invasive questions without regard were strangers and it was easy to justify shutting down their rudeness, but Crutchie felt open to having the conversation with Race. He’d already had a similar one this week with Jack, and he realized it had gotten easier since the last time. Ten years and he still struggled coming to terms. But- it had gotten a little easier to talk about. He took comfort in knowing it could only get better if he was open with Race in this moment. 

All his thoughts and feelings flashed through his head in a split second before he cautiously said, “Sure”. 

Crutchie could see Race tense slightly and he remembered that Race was used to being on the other side of this conversation. He must feel guilty asking, Crutchie realized. He understood that, too.

“Umm, can I ask what happened? To your leg, I mean? Like, how long has it...been...I don’t know...since…”

Crutchie, not wanting to watch Race flounder any longer, cut him off. 

“10 years. I was 11”.

“Wow”.

“Yeah, you actually may have seen it in the news. Remember hearing about the one kid who got polio? Schools considering outbreak procedures, parents freaking out, anti-vaxxers and doctors clashing in front of the White House?”

“I actually, I do, yeah,” Race looked stunned. 

“It was during flu season and all the symptoms were overlooked because they’re so similar early on,” Crutchie took a deep breath, remembering the days of panic that followed the morning he woke up scared, struggling to breath and unable to get out of bed, “it wasn’t until I tried to get out of bed one morning and couldn’t that they called someone. By then…”.

Crutchie would have laughed at he shocked look on Race’s face had he not being struggling to hold himself together. He tried not to regret agreeing to discuss this. 

“My right leg was affected worse from the beginning. My left one crapped out for a month or so, but therapy brought it mostly back. I rarely have issues with it. But the right one...my parents prayed constantly that it would follow the rest of my body and bounce back by some miracle...but I think God decided he had better things to do”. Crutchie smiled bitterly, remembering the feelings of guilt that had plagued him for years following his brush with death. He had thought that he was sinning, that he’d done something wrong to deserve this, that there was a reason God wasn’t answering his parents’ prayers. Thank heaven he’d had parents that had seen his inner turmoil and taken the time to sit him down and explain to him that it wasn’t his fault. Even though they’d quoted the hated phrase at him, ‘God gives us no more than we can handle’, they’d affirmed him every step of the way, especially when he’d come out to them. His faith had still been shaken though, his relationship with God touch and go at best. He had belief, but not faith.

Race was quiet, taking in all of this new information. The minutes dragged on as they sat in silent contemplation before, suddenly, a torrent of words rushed out of Race, as though he wanted to say them without hearing them or feeling them. 

“About a year and a half ago, Spot and I were in a car accident. The damage done wasn’t even all that bad. Neither of the cars were completely totaled. Spot sprained his wrist and had a concussion; the 16 year old kid in the other car walked away with barely a scratch. In fact, so did I. They took me to the hospital anyway, because that’s their job, ya know? I was fine. For hours, I was fine. They ran tests and everything seemed okay until they saw my brain. They said that it was probably nothing, they were just going to keep an eye on me overnight because there was some blood, but it would probably solve itself. Chances were, it would be fine. Except, when I woke up nearly 12 hours later, they’d already done brain surgery because it had gone downhill so fast and I couldn’t see anymore. I gained some light sensitivity and sometimes I can see vague shapes, but it’s like someone spilled black paint on a really dim spotlight before using it”.

Race was holding his breath, as if waiting for permission to relax. Figuring he was done, Crutchie put a hand gently on Race’s shoulder, and immediately, the boy’s entire body slumped as if he had lost the ability to hold himself up anymore.

When Race next spoke, it was barely a whisper. 

“That was the first time I’ve ever told anyone the whole story”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is hard. man, is this hard. Race doesn't really need anyone right now, but he could def use a friend who has an outside perspective. and opening up to new people is a step toward leaving the bubble he's so carefully constructed. its the beginning of change. and hope. wow I love these boys, the hurt is the beginning of the healing I guess.


	21. The Hardest Part of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from The Hardest Part of Love by Stephen Schwartz

Race and Crutchie were still sitting on the floor, silently, when the door to the apartment opened and two giggling voices spilled out along with their drunk and stumbling feet. 

“Oh...hey. Thought you left”.  
Albert and his musical voice floated down to where Race sat, obviously imbued with whatever drinks he’d had. 

“Surprise,” Race said, monotone and unmoving. The following moments of silence couldn’t have been much more awkward if they’d tried.

“Okay...well, bye,” and with that, Albert’s feet pounded away down the hallway accompanied by his...friend.  
The door to the staircase had hardly closed when Crutchie’s phone dinged.

“Al says he’s going to Romeo’s for the night, though why he didn’t just tell me I don’t know”.  
Race blinked before continuing on in the same monotone voice as before.

“Probably because we just made out and then I ran away without an explanation”.

“Oh”.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, not uncomfortably, before Crutchie finally spoke again. 

“Well, at this point, the painting episode’s been over for at least 20 minutes, and when I last talked to Jack, he was kinda freaking out a little, so it’s probably time for me to go handle everything. Just so you know, you are completely welcome to spend the night here if you need a little time away from home to think. These things are hard”. Race was more than a little surprised at Crutchie’s offer- having just admitted to cheating on Spot, Race guess he’d just assumed Crutchie would be a little more judgmental, which he probably deserved. Instead, Crutchie was almost pretending nothing had happened, which Race knew from experience as a sign that this would be more deeply discussed at a later date.

“I think that would be best,” Race hesitantly responded, “I think I have some stuff I need to figure out before I break it to him”.

“I’ll always be around if you need to talk. I’m gonna go start cleaning up, feel free to come back whenever you’re ready”. And with that, the door to Crutchie’s apartment closed as he left. 

Race stood up gingerly, his legs and back protesting after sitting unmoving for so long. He texted Spot that he was staying at Crutchie’s for the night before finding the door handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok well that was basically the worst thing I've ever done but I could not for the life of me get the rest of this night correct so it's gonna be a different chapter and then we'll finally be done with this bob ross party that's been so dramatic and can only get more so


	22. The Golden Wood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from The Golden Wood from The Lord of the Rings (musical)

Race found the couch and glued himself to the end cushion until Crutchie had successfully cleared out the partygoers. As calm as he appeared on the outside, Race’s mind was whirling. He knew what he needed to do come tomorrow and he was putting off thinking through some choice words to say. Since he still didn’t know how he felt or his motivations for his recent actions, it was hard to create functional dialogue on the matter. Race’s mind raced in circles for God knows how long until he realized Crutchie was talking to him. 

 

“...blankets on the shelves by the window which is a few feet right of where you’re sitting, but the blanket already draped behind you is probably thick enough. There’s already a pillow underneath you, unless you want a bigger one. The remote’s on the table set at the other side of the couch, though as I say it, I realize that nothing about that is helpful,” Crutchie finally stopped take a breathe and Race quietly interjected. 

 

“That’s great, thanks man. I’m just gonna crash right here, I don’t need anything else”.

 

Crutchie obviously got the message, wishing Race good night as the clicking of his cane on the floor faded down the hall. Race knew he was going to regret not checking out the rest of the apartment or at least finding out where the bathroom was, but at the moment, he was too tired and emotionally spent to find it within himself to get Crutchie and explore. He pulled the blanket over his long legs and closed his eyes, trying to get the tornado of thoughts to slow. Instead, they intensified. He sighed and turned over; he was in for a long night.

 

____________________________

 

If Race was tired, Crutchie was exhausted. Making his way to the bedroom, he could feel the excitement of the alcohol wearing off, leaving him feeling achy and as if a weight were placed on his body. He had pushed himself too far and he knew it. However, at the time, he was having fun, so consequences seemed far off. They didn’t now, but he’d deal with it- Crutchie always did. He was looking forward to just cuddling up with Jack and a heating pad to watch the unfortunate season of Will & Grace where NBC had decided to just ignore Debra Messing’s pregnancy. 

 

Jack had been in his room for a while though, so Crutchie assumed the painting had taken over his attention. Jack’s love of art was endearing, but Crutchie found himself wishing Jack would’ve helped herd the guests out or assisted in putting away the extra food or...well...anything, really. Not that Crutchie needed it, but it was just nice to have Jack around. Not to mention if Jack had been around during clean-up, there probably would have been less food to put away. 

 

Pushing open the door his bedroom, the first thing Crutchie saw was an empty stool and an easel set up with a blank canvas. His first thought was that Jack had somehow left, but then he caught a flash of his red t-shirt and turned to find Jack rummaging through the back of the closet.

 

“Jackie?”

Jack nearly toppled over as he spun around, eyes wide and surprised.

 

“Char, hey,” he said awkwardly, a dopey grin playing across his face.

 

“What are you doing searching through my closet?” 

Though amused, Crutchie still found the action somewhat invasive.

 

“I...well, I was looking for the stool,” Crutchie gave a pointed look to the aforementioned stool set up in the middle of the room, “I know...but, I got a little distracted”.

 

At the raise of Crutchie’s eyebrow, Jack went back to his rummaging in the closet, saying, “I was just gonna hide it and leave it there, but…”, and he pulled out one of Crutchie’s canes, but now it was covered in hand-painted vines and yellow, budding flowers, with little dewdrops littering the foliage. Jack handed it over with an air of anxiety, and the look reminded Crutchie of a small child who wasn’t sure how he was going to be received.

 

Crutchie said nothing. 

 

Jack shifted weight from one foot to the other, “Char?”

 

Crutchie’s first reaction surprised him. He felt almost angry- Jack had not only invaded his privacy without permission, but had taken something very close to him, something that his relationship with had been difficult, taking so much time and therapy to come to terms with. And Jack had treated it as something that he could change however he wanted, to make it how he envisioned instead of how Crutchie had learned to accept it. The part of him that had spent so much time being walked all over wanted to rage at the audacity. But Crutchie knew that part of him was the same part that was afraid of building a relationship that included his disability in open ways, because that made him more vulnerable than he’d been in years. Thinking more clearly than expected considering the amount of alcohol he’d consumed earlier, Crutchie considered the situation and couldn’t help but liken it to when he’d adopted Crutchie as a nickname. It had stemmed from bullies, but his therapist had recommended he own their taunts as juvenile and fear-based instead of letting them affect him. Though she was likely recommending an emotional ‘owning’ process, Crutchie had taken it to heart and had convinced everyone to start calling him Crutchie so that the once derogatory name had begun to sting less and less. Jack had noticed something that was so often perceived as ugly or abnormal, but had seen it as a part of Crutchie that he loved and accepted. The fact that Jack hadn’t given a second thought to painting the cane told Crutchie that this relationship was different. In the past, much of his romance had been based on ignoring his leg, pretending that it didn’t matter. Jack didn’t fake not noticing, he didn’t claim that he liked Crutchie ‘in spite of’ his disability. Jack took it all and didn’t see issue with taking Crutchie’s aids as another part of him, no more or less than the rest. The thoughts rushing through Crutchie’s head in the moment only touched the surface of all the feelings bubbling under the surface about Jack’s newest artistic endeavor. In the end, the deciding factor between anger and acceptance was the flowers. He hadn’t noticed at first glance, but they weren’t actually flowers- they were suns. Jack had said before that Crutchie was like the sun and he hadn’t know what the other boy had meant by it. But now, it symbolized that this action really had been for Crutchie, and not something Jack had done out of disdain for what the cane signified. 

 

Jack was still standing expectantly, shifting uncomfortably like a small child. Crutchie found it suddenly endearing that he was so nervous about what he’d done. It showed that Jack knew this wasn’t something Crutchie would necessarily take lightly, and he appreciated it. Crutchie gently took the decorated cane from Jack, then leaned it against the wall along with the cane he’d been using. He put a hand on Jack’s chest and could feel how nervous Jack really was; his heart was pounding. But at the close proximity the boys were at, Crutchie’s heart was beginning to go a little wild as well. Grinning, Crutchie closed the small gap and pressed his lips to Jack’s collarbone and murmured his thanks all the way up Jack’s lips. 

 

Jack finally smiled as Crutchie pulled away. 

 

“So, I’m glad the yellow worked out, I was afraid it would blend too much with the wood and wouldn’t provide the contrast I was looking…,” he cut off sharply as Crutchie pressed another kiss to his lips. 

 

“No offense Jackie, but shut up and kiss me”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is, folks. give a comment to save a life.


	23. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from The Morning After by Maureen McGovern

Race ran his fingers over his wrist watch for approximately the thousandth time that night. Five AM. He considered getting up and walking home with all the New York Sunday morning Walk of Shame-ers, but he didn’t want to be rude after Crutchie had been so supportive. He would’ve liked to cook Crutchie breakfast as a thank you, but everything here was unfamiliar. Hell, he didn’t even know where the bathroom was. It was lucky he’d only had one drink the night before.

He turned over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Spot had a shift today from four AM to two PM, so Race had a while before he had to face him. He still didn’t know how to start that conversation or what he was going to say. He was contemplating pushing random buttons on the remote just to entertain himself when Race heard the distinct footsteps of Crutchie coming down the hall. Race knew he should say good morning, but he was just too exhausted, despite his inability to sleep. Instead, he listened as cupboards opened and closed and the coffee maker gurgled out caffeinated bean soup. 

A few moments later, Race heard Crutchie sit down in the armchair and pop open the footrest.

 

“Morning, Race”.

 

“Morning, Crutch”.

 

They sat for a few more minutes in silence before Race spoke again. 

 

“You’re up early”.

 

“Rough night,” said Crutchie, “Guess I’m not the only one. You okay?”

 

“Fabulous,” intoned Race.

 

After a few moments, Crutchie stopped waiting for Race to finish that response.

 

“Did you want some coffee?”

 

“Uh, yeah, that’d be good,” Race sat up. The easy communication they’d had the night before under the influence of emotions and alcohol had evaporated, leaving an uneasy tension. 

 

“Sure thing, just gimme a sec”. After a few moments, Race heard the footrest click back under the chair and the floorboards creaked under the rug as Crutchie slowly stood,and Race followed suit. 

 

“Crutch, maybe you could show me where the basic stuff is before we get the coffee?”

 

“Oh yeah, sure, but I don’t have a free arm, so I don’t know how you want to...yeah”.

Race wasn’t sure either, quite honestly. What he called his ‘blind schooling’ hadn’t exactly covered things like this, but hey, he’d been figuring out how to adapt for a year and a half and he wasn’t going anywhere now. 

 

“I guess I’ll just try your shoulder? If that’s okay?”

 

“Yeah, no problem, let’s just get it over with”.

Race felt a jolt of hurt and was about to say that it was fine, he could figure it out later, he didn’t want to be a pain when Crutchie apparently realized what had come out of his mouth. 

 

“OH no, Race, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean like that, I’m just hungover and it’s the one spoon I have left talking, which is no excuse...I’m sorry, man”.

Race was left feeling slightly vulnerable, as if a close friend has betrayed him, even though nothing had really happened. He understood, it was early, they’d both had a long night, and Crutchie had just admitted he’d overdone it on his leg last night. Though he still wasn’t really over it, Race tried to be reassuring. 

 

“It’s fine, I get it. I pretty much just need to know where the bathroom is and then coffee, we’ll just go quickly and come sit back down”. Race’s hurt was quickly turning into frustration and he could feel that Crutchie was also bemoaning the lack of easy mobility in a simple apartment.

“Damn, we’re a mess,” Race gave a little laugh.

 

“I prefer to say we keep it interesting,” Crutchie responded, and Race could hear the slightest hint of a smile in his voice, not quite masking the strain, “I’m behind the couch so if ya join me over here, we can get situated”.

Race did as asked and found Crutchie’s shoulder. Race observed as they headed down the hall to the bathroom that Crutchie may have understated the punishment last night was giving him. He moved slowly and heavily, and even though they had just gone down the hall, Race could feel his breathing pick up. He tried not to feel guilty for getting him up- one of the things that had been hammered into his brain post-accident was that he was always entitled to accomodation. But right now, he couldn’t help but feel upset that he was the cause of more discomfort on Crutchie’s behalf and the feeling quickly got the best of him. They’d barely made it halfway down the hall when Race interrupted. 

 

“Hey Crutch, I was thinking maybe you could just tell me how many doors down and on what side the bathroom is and then we can go get coffee”.

 

“Oh, thank God”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in other news, race is still on the struggle bus and he hit crutchie with it but THINGS WILL GET BETTER THEY HAVE TO


	24. Seeds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from Seeds from A Year with Frog and Toad

When Jack came stumbling into the living room three hours later, Crutchie was still sitting, mug in hand, where he’d thrown himself down three hours earlier. Race had gone home to try and sleep- Crutchie had offered to drive, but Race said he knew the way since his favorite record store was right next to Crutchie’s apartment building. Crutchie had Brooklyn Nine-Nine episodes playing on the TV, which he muted and subtitled as Jack re-entered the room with a large mug of coffee. Crutchie could feel his mood lighten ever so slightly as he took in Jack’s ruffled appearence and sleep-clouded eyes. Sometimes he swore that beauty was therapeutic.

 

“Morning, Jackie. How’d you sleep?”

 

“Great,” Jack rubbed his eyes (endearingly, Crutchie might add), “though I’m kinda still asleep”.

Running his fingers lightly through Crutchie’s disheveled blonde hair, Jack leaned down and pecked him on the lips.

“What a great wake-up though”. 

Crutchie felt himself blush discernably, a heat that only intensified when Jack noticed and leaned back in, stopping when their lips were mere centimeters apart. Crutchie was trying to appreciate Jack’s adorable morning shadow and the way his eyes were bright and inviting, but the fact was, Jack was putting weight on Crutchie’s leg and while on most days, it wouldn’t have been enough to bother him, today was not that day. Their lips finally met and Crutchie groaned, but not in a good way. Thankfully, Jack noticed and stood back up.

“What? Is everything okay? Did you not want me to…?”

 

Crutchie kind of wanted to wave it off as nothing. This relationship was still young, and he usually hid most of his symptoms this early on because, quite frankly, pain is personal. It’s not that he thought Jack would get scared off, Crutchie was...well...Crutchie tried to block out the part of him that knew it wasn’t Jack that was scared of being open. He shook his head slightly to clear away his doubts and took a huge gulp from his third cup of coffee. 

“Nah, you’re fine, the way you were leaning on me was just a little uncomfortable”.

 

Jack leaned his weight on the arm of chair instead of Crutchie and pecked Crutchie on the forehead and smiled. 

“Okay, that was the apology kiss. Wanna go back to your room so we can cuddle and watch a cheesy Christmas movie? I don’t have to work until two and it’s cold so I need Charlie cuddles”. He fake pouted and Crutchie laughed at Jack’s antics. Jack had acted as if he was an awkward middle schooler when he asked Crutchie to watch a movie with him and now he was pouting like a child. Shit, Crutchie was so far gone for this adorable little idiot.

 

“Of course, babe. You go pick a movie, I’m gonna get some more coffee”. 

Jack nodded and blew Crutchie a cheesy kiss as he left. Crutchie closed the footrest and sighed. He lived in a tiny New York apartment, but, man, did it seem huge at times like this. 

Filling his fourth mug to the brim, he popped some ibuprofin in his mouth, trying to ignore the availability of some stronger stuff. He grabbed the hot pad and almost put it back. Crutchie really didn’t want to talk to Jack about everything today and if he showed any sign he was in pain...well, he didn’t want to talk about it, plain and simple. But fuck it all, his comfort had to come first, he would just brush Jack off if he asked about it. 

 

Carefully, he headed back to the room, his coffee mug (travel, because he would definitely spill an open mug) hanging from fingertips under his crutch grip because he couldn’t fucking put any weight on his leg today. He rarely had days like this anymore, and it was generally because he knew better than to get drunk and overdo it (his teenage years were a different story). But hey, he refused to regret it. He’d had fun and he deserved some good, wholesome (well, sort of) fun every once in a while, consequences be damned. 

 

When Crutchie entered the bedroom, Jack had A Christmas Prince pulled up.

 

“Okay, so I’ve already watched in twice since they put it on Netflix, but it’s so fantastic and so awful at the same time,” Jack said, patting the spot next to him where the covers were pulled back. Crutche smiled, setting down his mug on the bedside table and plugging in the heading pad.

 

“Don’t try to justify it Jack...I’ve seen it three”.

With that, Jack giggled- honest to God, giggled, and Crutchie’s heart swooned. He sat on the edge of the bed, grabbing his ankle and gracefully heaving his uncooperative limb onto the bed. He snuggled into Jack with the heating pad as the other boy pushed play on the movie. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jack watching him arrange the pad on his calf. Jack opened his mouth slightly as if to speak and appeared to think better of it, instead, smiling and kissing Crutchie on the cheek. 

 

“Just stay here with me all day, ‘kay?”

Crutchie smiled. Jack was acknowledging that Crutchie wasn’t having a great day, but he was trusting that his boyfriend would ask if he needed anything- Jack didn’t intrude, just simply acknowledged. Crutchie knew that, damn, he’d found a good one. 

 

“‘Kay”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey look, its consequences part two (haha can you tell I'm putting off writing the coming Race/Spot scene)  
> this fic was supposed to be pretty focused on the Jack/Crutchie dynamic and then Race n Spot kinda took over without warning, but I'm glad to be delving back into these boys. the cane arc isn't over yet, so yay for that!


	25. At the Sounding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from At the Sounding from Myths and Hymns (concept album by Adam Guettel)

Race napped fitfully until noon, when he put in Napoleon Dynamite and stress-cooked a entire traditional Italian meal. He was just pulling the garlic bread from the oven when he heard the door open and close as Spot walked in heavily and took off his boots. 

“Hey babe. Smells awesome. Why are you cooking at two in the afternoon though?”. The latent threads of guilt that entwined his stomach seemed to tighten and feelings of shame and regret flooded Race. For now, though, he was going to pretend everything was fine. 

 

“Just felt like it. Plus, I figured you could use a good meal after work”. Race walked a huge bowl of homemade lasagna into the living room, putting in on the coffee table and sitting down on the couch. He didn’t even realize how tense he was until he felt Spot’s hands on his shoulders, massaging from the back of his neck, out. Race hung his head forward and sighed. Damn, Spot was good at this. 

 

It only took a few more short moments before Race remembered the extent of the situation he was in and he involuntarily tensed again and began rubbing at his eyes.

 

“Race, is everything okay? You only make lasagna when you’re stressed and I know all your nervous ticks”. Race stopped rubbing at his eyes. He knew he had to tell Spot, but every instinct was telling him to push it off until later or, better yet, to just hide it forever. He knew it was wrong, but he had the perfect guy and he’d fucked it up- was it so unreasonable wanting to hold on for a few more minutes? But the more he thought about it, the more Race realized that it had been awhile since their relationship had been...well, real. There was never any doubt that they loved each other, but they never talked or went out on dates anymore, and they had few truly intimate and meaningful moments. Race had to do it now. He had to ease into it, maybe get Spot to eat a little before bringing up the topic of the party, and then he could…

 

“I kissed someone”. Or he could just, ya know. Say it. He waited a moment to see if Spot would respond. Spot didn’t. And he was no longer touching Race. 

 

“At the party. I...um...had a drink. He just kissed me and I let him. Actually I more than let him, I think I, umm, I actually kissed him back a little and…” Race could hear himself rambling and shut up. He wasn’t sure where Spot was. He couldn’t hear him moving. What if he had left? The silence and stillness had been long enough that Race was considering calling out when he felt a heavy weight drop onto the couch beside him. Thank God. 

 

They sat there beside each other, silent, for a few long moments. Finally, Spot broke the tension. 

 

“Oh.” Race waited for more, but nothing came. ‘Oh’? Was that all he got? Race didn’t know what he wanted out of Spot, but it was definitely more than an ‘oh’.

 

“Okay?”, Race turned toward Spot slightly, unsure of what exactly was going on. 

 

“That was just unexpected, I guess. I’m upset, but everybody makes mistakes, you know? You were drinking, and it was just one kiss, right? I mean, you shouldn’t have done it, but I love you, and you’ll have to earn back some trust, but I think we can come through this fine. I’m still just kinda in shock though, I didn’t see that coming at all”. If anything, Spot seemed...calm and unaffected, as if Race kissing someone else was no more than the announcement that their favorite TV show had been cancelled. Spot may have seemed fine, but Race was suddenly and undeniably angry. 

 

“Wait, what? You’re suddenly just fine with me kissing other guys? You’re not at all angry that I basically cheated on you? Is this what our relationship has come to, just a step above pure indifference?”. Race didn’t know where all the sudden anger was coming from, but it was like a tidal wave and it wasn’t backing down. “I can’t believe this, you act like nothing’s a threat to our relationship, as if we have to be together no matter what happens, like I can’t go anywhere without you. It’s only us, never me and you”.

 

“Race, I AM upset about this, I just think we don’t have to make such a big deal about it, I mean it’s not like you would have actually done anything drastic”.

 

Race’s voice suddenly became dangerously quiet when he spoke next: “Oh, right, because I can’t do anything big without you around. Because I need you for everything, right? That’s what you think? You’re always just around, pretending that we haven’t changed, that we’re still the same us even though I kissed another guy and you’re a firefighter now and we don’t go out anymore and, I don’t know, I’m fucking blind, Spot. But, no, of course, we’re still the same. Maybe you wouldn’t be so surprised that I did something if you weren’t always at work, Spot”. Race had progressed nearly to the point of screaming, and when Spot next spoke, he no longer seemed so calm and collected.

 

“I work for us, for our living! I work so hard because I love you, Race”.

 

“Right, that’s why you’re never home”.

 

“Shit Race, I’ve been picking up extra shifts to save up for a ring, I was planning to fucking propose,” Spot basically screamed it at Race, the stunned boy could feel the spit flying from Spot’s mouth as he spat out the words like a curse. “It was all for you, Race, all because I fucking love you and I wanted to fucking marry you”. 

 

Now, the boys were both standing, toe to toe, facing each other. Spot had a small, velvet box pressed into Race’s hand, and they remained in that position, hand in hand, faces red, for several long minutes. 

 

Neither moved, even as Race said, “It’s just that you carried me”. He felt Spot twitch slightly and he knew that Spot was thinking of that night, too, when he’d broken the vase and walked through the wreckage.. “You fucking carried me, Spot. I was falling and you didn’t ask before you caught me. Maybe I would’ve hit the ground. I can handle that myself. But, maybe I would’ve flown”. Spot still hadn’t moved, so Race continued, unable to stop now that he’d found the words to express the doubts he’d been feeling. “You’ve never let me fall Spot, not since the accident,” Spot made a small, meek noise that made Race want to shatter into a million pieces, “but that’s the problem. I don’t know how you feel- I just know that you’ve handled those feelings by being there for me. And that- that’s turned into something dangerous. My disability has been a crutch for you to deal with the accident, and my dealing with the accident has been hindered by that. You can’t carry me, Sean. You...I...we just can’t”.

 

“Antonio…” Spot whispered, his breath tickling Race’s still slightly parted lips. Race shook his head and rubbed his thumb gently on the ring box, his hand still under Spot’s. Then, he let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha fuck


	26. Merry Mending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from Merry Mending by Duke Ellington

Crutchie was in the process of psyching himself up to go complete a few Uber drives so he could afford the last few Christmas and Hanukkah gifts when he heard the knock on the door. He figured it may be rude to just scream ‘come in’ from the bedroom so he mentally prepared himself go get the door.

“Coming!” He was on the edge of the bed pulling his wheelchair from where Jack had left it before work when he heard Race’s voice.

“Nah, its fine Crutch, door’s unlucked, just wanted to make sure I wasn’t barging in on something”. Crutchie let out the breath he’d been holding and then realized Race getting in wasn’t the only problem. 

“Uh, second door on the right in the hallway,” he called. Crutchie wanted to go help but unless it was absolutely necessary, he was putting it off for as long as possible. Just a few moments later, Race appeared in the doorway.

“Crutchie?”

“You’re in the right place pal. Everything okay? Did you forget something?”

“Spot and I...are taking a break. I just needed to not be in the same space as him”. Race voice was thick with emotion and he looked near tears. Crutchie had an inkling of suspicion as to why Race chose Crutchie’s apartment over his closer friends, but he wasn’t going to pry.

“Oh Race, I’m sorry. Wanna sit? Bed’s only a few feet from the door, direction you’re already facing”. 

“Yeah, thanks”. Race made his way carefully forward, until he unwittingly bumped into the bed. “Oh shit. Your bed is lower than I was expecting”. He sat down heavily, rubbing at his eyes.

“Yeah, makes it easier”.

“Right”. 

After Race had slipped off his shoes and been offered a cup of coffee, which he, thank God, turned down, Crutchie steered the conversation in the direction he knew it was headed anyway. 

“I’m sorry Spot took it so hard”. Race visibly flinched and Crutchie was going to apologize and change the subject when he responded. 

“He..uh...he’s not really the one who freaked. Sea-, uh, Spot barely reacted, said something about how he’d get over it, implied some things. I kinda yelled at him about not being around and he pulled out a ring, and I...um...I said that, uh, I couldn’t do it anymore and left”. Crutchie listened and admittedly, did not see the ring thing coming. He also felt like Race was leaving something out of the story, but Crutchie figured he’d confide when he was ready. 

“Wow. A ring. That’s intense”. Race just nodded. He looked exhausted in more ways than one. 

“Race, did you get any sleep when you went home this morning?” Race shrugged.

“I mean, I laid down...but I guess, no, not really”.

“You get some rest, I should get to work”. Race turned toward Crutchie.

“Where do you work?”

“I’m an Uber driver, so everywhere”. Race nodded.

“You’ve gotta be exhausted though. Neither of us slept well last night, and I doubt you slept at all after I left because Jack texted me that he got you to watch A Christmas Prince with him”. Crutchie shrugged.

“A few hours of work just to cover some holiday expenses won’t change much a this point, I’ll crash when I get home. Plus, its almost five, so if I go now, I’m sure to get some rides quickly”. 

“You sure?” Race questioned, “Just earlier, you were...uh, not, um…”

“Okay, thanks for checking in, but it’s not really your business how I choose to spend my spoons”.

“Oh, sorry, your what? What does silverware have to do with anything?” Crutchie couldn’t hold his own amusement in, and he began to laugh. Race seemed a little hurt, though a smile was beginning to creep onto his face as he spoke, “Don’t laugh at me, I don’t know what you’re talking about”.

“Race, do you know anybody else with a disability?”

“Well, um, my mom had a knee replacement when I was fifteen, so..uh, yeah no”. Crutchie’s jaw dropped.

“Race, have you ever met another blind person?” Race scoffed lightly.

“Of course. They sent somebody in to talk to me when it all went down”.

“That doesn’t really count”. Suddenly, Crutchie had an idea- it couldn’t hurt to offer. 

“You ever been to a support group, Race?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pulled an all-nighter but its fine.   
> Editing? Who is she?  
> Now, I sleep.


	27. Can’t Help Falling in Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley

The first thing Jack noticed when Race walked through the door is that the kid looked buoyant, as if he was walking on air. Crutchie wheeled in behind him and Jack unconciously jolted a little- he’d never seen Crutchie actually use his chair and to Jack, it meant that his boyfriend was hurting. Then and there he made a concious choice to try and break that connotation- no sense in allowing himself to make preconceptions about Crutchie’s decision-making. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Charlie- excited butterflies still made an appearance in his stomach every time Jack saw him. He wasn’t sure exactly what was going on with the two boys that had just come in though- Race had spent the night at Crutchie’s and Jack had found out from a very crossfaded Spot that Race had left after implying that he was done with their relationship. Since, Crutchie and Race had been basically attached at the hip; Albert was staying with a friend closer to his work since he was currently in rehearsals every day, so they hadn’t had to deal with that whole...situation yet. 

Now, it was Monday evening, and Jack had come over to his boyfriend’s after work to find the apartment empty. He’d texted both boys and gotten no reply, but fifteen minutes later, the handle turned and Race took a few steps in, both hands firmly on the side of the door to keep his bearings, and moved aside for Crutchie before closing the door. They were both laughing. 

“Race, I spent time doing my hair and you fucked it up, thank your lucky stars I don’t have any other plans tonight”.

“Well, sorry,” Race said sarcastically, trying and failing to keep a straight face, “you’re so low to the ground in that thing, it’s just easier to follow you by putting my hand on your head”. 

“Fine, then,” Crutchie smirked, “guess you’ll just have to suffer the consequences”. And with that, Crutchie gracefully grabbed Race’s forearm, pulled himself out of his chair, mussed Race’s hair until it resembled a troll doll from the 90s, and sat himself back down with a slight groan. “That’s what you get for touching The Hair, asshole”.

In one extremely smooth and iconic gesture, Race shrugged, winked in Crutchie’s direction, then pulled a beanie out of his pocket and pulled it over his mane of hair. “Scout motto is be prepared, bitch,” he said smugly, holding up one hand in the three-fingered salute and the other with a slightly less respectful finger, then he turned on his heel and made his way toward the kitchen, where Jack was standing, taking in the scene with a vaguely amused expression.

Crutchie locked eyes with Jack as Race was pouring mug of coffee.

“Jackie!”

“Hey babe”.

Race almost spilled his coffee; “Jack? I didn’t hear you come in”. Jack laughed.

“I was already here when you guys got back from...where did you go?” Jack threaded his fingers through Crutchie’s thick, messy blonde hair and felt the boy relax ever so slightly under his touch; Jack’s heart soared. 

“Crutchie dragged me along to this support group thing at NYU,” Race said lightly, turning around to pick up his mug from the counter. Jack shot a surprised look at Crutchie, remembering the hours of failed attempts to get Race to go to support groups, therapy, or...anything really. It’d been a dark place for him a year and a half ago. Crutchie just nodded. 

“Yeah, I think there’s one for people with vision loss, but we went to a more general one organized by some grad students. It’s the one I usually go to since there’s not exactly a plethora of polio groups in the area”. Crutchie laughed. 

“I think Blink said it’s on Thursdays,” Race provided.

“Blink…,” Jack ran his fingers through Crutchie’s hair again thoughtfully, “wasn’t he at the party? He has vision loss?”. Crutchie chuckled.

“I met him at the group, there cause he’s got one eye”.

“Yeah, that would explain the nickname”, Jack said distractedly. Crutchie was fucking beautiful. His scarf brought out his eyes and Jack was lost in them. Jack was staring unashamedly when Crutchie met his eyes and blushed lightly, but didn’t look away. Jack felt his own cheeks begin to warm as his vision narrowed until all he could see was his sweetheart. Unwittingly, he stepped closer and closer, closing distance until Crutchie’s eyes were all he could see. Allowing the flying sparks to light him on fire, Jack neared those beautifully soft lips and prepared to enjoy them- he wasn’t going to leave Crutchie alone to deal with such perfection by himself, but his shin cracked against the footrest and he flailed, cursing inches away from Crutchie’s face. He put his hand down to balance himself and just ended up pushing the chair several feet away as he crashed to the ground, limbs flying. 

There was a solid few seconds of silence as Jack tried to comprehend the last few moments, still partially stuck in his Charlie-induced trance, before Race sputtered out a confused “what just happened?’.

That was all it took for Crutchie to begin laughing hysterically.

“Damn it, Jack, how does this always happen?” Jack pushed himself to into a sitting position and leaned back against the wall, rubbing his head where he’d hit it on the floor. He groaned, though had to admit the urge to giggle at his predicament was bubbling within him. 

“I forgot Char, sorry”. Crutchie wheeled over so he was right in front of Jack and reached down to drag a thumb across his cheekbone. Jack felt his heart swell as the other boy leaned in close.

“Don’t you go thinking I forgot about my kiss just ‘cause you fucked it up the first time”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we all needed a break from the angst friends


	28. While the City Slumbered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from While the City Slumbered from Hunchback of Notre Dame

Race waited until Crutchie had retired to his bedroom for the night before he let the tears fall. He’d been keeping busy and had managed to shove the mish-mash of feelings to the wayside, but alone now in the dark, he couldn’t hold it together any longer. He wasn’t ready to fully confront his feelings, but he couldn’t stop himself from experiencing them and he sobbed uncontrollably into Crutchie’s poor couch pillow. As he struggled to draw in breaths, he told himself that he had two more minutes. 

Two more minutes to mourn what he’d lost:

His boyfriend

His best friend

And, after a year and a half, he still mourned the loss of his sight,

But it was only for two more minutes. 

He took out his phone and set a timer for two minutes. And then, he sobbed, forcing himself not to call Spot and beg forgiveness and just allowing himself to feel everything he’d been shutting out for the past few days. 

After two minutes, his timer went off, buzzing on the couch next to his clenched fist. Race grabbed a tissue and wiped away the tears streaking his face and allowed his shuddering shoulders to settle.

Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the pillow and his mind immediately returned to the support group meeting. An echo of the warmth he’d felt being in that community returned to his stomach and comforted him, lulling him down toward sleep. Surprised by how positively knowing he wasn’t alone affected him, he allowed himself to relax. Completely cried out and filled with an odd, shining hope, Race drifted off into the best night of sleep he’d had in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhh let's not pretend like Race's total okayness in the last chapter was anything but a facade


	29. On the Spot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from On the Spot by The True Loves

Spot was just going through the motions and he knew it. It was a pretty average day; he dealt with two car fires and the completely unnecessary call about a small grease fire quickly and efficiently. He could hear himself calling commands to his team and speaking encouraging words still freaked 17 year old who’d called about the grease fire, but it was like his head was submerged in water. Everything was slow and bogged down by drops of pain and regret. Every time his phone rang, he heart jolted in hope that Race was calling. Spot would gladly forgive and forget at the drop of a hat. He knew that this immediate willingness to take all the blame was part of why Race had left, but he shoved that particular thought aside. He wasn’t ready for this bubble he’d been living in for a year and a half to pop- the bubble where feelings and afflictions didn’t need to be faced, only ignored. The bubble where it was about being there for Race and making sure Race had everything he needed was threatening to pop and Spot wasn’t sure what he’d be left with when it did. Everything pre-accident had vanished and Spot was hard-pressed to recall life before spending everyday covering guilt with help and subservience. Help that, Spot knew, Race never asked for and rarely needed. His thoughts becoming too much to handle, Spot forced himself to focus on the job needing done. His rig was just pulling into a lot next to a wooden playset that had caught fire. Here, Spot could help. Spot shook his head to clear it- he was needed.


	30. Where Do We Go From Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from Where Do We Go From Here from Amelie
> 
> sorry it's been so long. I have no excuse. This is most definitely Not My Best Work but its here and its queer so get used to it. Returning to the love story of your fave bois, Jack n Crutchie...

Jack never could’ve seen exactly how much Charles Jameson Morris was going to change his life. He’d been standing alone in his kitchen, making some tea and whipping up some eggs when his phone began ringing, playing the Degrassi theme song (Hey, he’d been drunk when he’d set it up and had just never bothered to change it. Sue him). Jack had a quick internal debate over whether to actually answer, since it wasn't a familiar number, but ended up putting down the spatula and picking up his phone, taking a deep breath. He hated talking on the phone, but he was working on that particular manifestation of his anxiety.

“Hello? Yes, uh, this is he”. Jack’s eyebrows furrowed as he poured himself a mug of caffeinated dreams. “Uh huh, yeah, sure”. As he listened, Jack sank down onto the couch with his tea, his eyes going wide and his brows disappearing upwards into his disheveled hair. The eggs forgotten and Jack’s interest undeniably piqued, an empire was in the making.

 

___________________

 

Crutchie was running a few minutes behind since his last drive had taken longer than expected, so Jack grabbed them a table for two at their favorite restaurant and ordered a coffee (sure, it was dinner time, but Crutchie consumed ungodly amounts of caffeine at all hours of the day and still managed to pass out by 9pm most nights). Jack...well, he had one mug of coffee with milk and sugar every morning mostly for the social convention of it. He’d never been much of a coffee-drinker and working at Jacobi’s had mostly ruined coffee for him, not to mention how too much caffeine screwed with his anxiety. The mug was set down in front of him a few moments later, but Crutchie still hadn’t arrived. Distractedly lost in thought about his earlier conversation, Jack absentmindedly took a sip and consequently almost spat out the strong, black brew all over the table. His choking was interrupted by the tinkling of the bell on the entrance as Crutchie swung himself through the door, accompanied by a gust of cold air and a few residual snowflakes. The blonde made his way quickly and precisely through the maze of chair and tables, giving his boyfriend a few thumps on the back with a sharp laugh before lowering himself gracefully into his seat. 

“You okay there, Jackie?”.

“I’d be better if I hadn’t accidentally consumed the coffee devil incarnate,” Jack whined. Crutchie picked up the mug and took a huge gulp, keeping one hand wrapped securely around the warmth while the other began the typical massaging of his upper thigh. 

“Maybe if your taste buds weren’t so weak…,” Crutchie winked through his facade of mockery and then settled back in his chair. “How was your day?”. Jack shifted slightly. He was almost nervous to tell Crutchie his news, almost feeling as if he was invading someone else’s space, uninvited. He forged on.

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Your P.T. called me, Jerome Cullens? Said that you brought the cane I painted to your session this morning and…,” Jack paused momentarily as he again reminded himself that it wasn’t just a dream, that the call had really happened, “He wanted to talk to me about collaborating with the hospital and outpatient clinics to do more of them. The canes and, I guess, other mobility stuff or devices or whatever you call them, I mean”. Crutchie quirked an eyebrow and nodded for Jack to continue, sensing that he wasn’t finished talking. Crutchie knew that Jerry had asked him for a contact of the artist who had decorated the cane, but that was all. “He said that a lot of the time, people, especially kids, have like, difficulty adjusting to using, you know, canes or...yeah,” Jack was now gesturing wildly, nervously as he spoke, “He said personalization of the aids was helpful with that and offered for me to be a part of that? Like I could decorate the aids? He said that if I established myself as a separate business that I would then be associated with NYU and that he would be willing to help me out with all of it because he really believed in the power of art and how this could really make a difference to some of the kids struggling to…,” Jack rambled on, his face lit up with excitement and Crutchie gazed at the animated boy before him, trying to reconcile this person with the one who had completely panicked and shut down the other night, laying down on the cool wooden floors of his apartment to try and calm down after realizing how much he still had to spend on holiday gifts this year. Crutchie was pretty sure Jack had already spilled all the tea about the day’s occurrences and now he was at the phase of rambling where he was just restating things he’d already said with different words and with a few more personal additions. Crutchie allowed himself to completely zone out for a few moments, letting himself feel the weight that had settled on his body throughout the day. He liked listening to his boyfriend talk about his day, but he needed a moment to evaluate where he was at physically and emotionally after the busy day he’d had. He came to the indefinite conclusion he commonly did- that he was capital F, Fine. He figured it was time to start listening again when Jack’s demeanor changed from elated to disappointed and a little dejected. 

“Mmmhmm,” Crutchie hummed, pressing his lips together and figuring a noncommittal noise was his best bet. A bit of guilt was creeping in for ignoring the second half of Jack’s explanation, but Crutchie pushed it down and tried to focus, waving the waiter over and silently pleading for more coffee.

“I’m just so busy,” Jack lamented, “I have one more semester left of school and it’s gonna be hell. I have what basically amounts to a less formal capstone project on top of everything else, which I’m supposed to create a general idea or design for over break, but I have no fucking clue. What that Cullens guy offered is basically a part-time or even full-time commitment that has the potential to create a decent income, but I really want to graduate. I’m too close to drop out now. I’m just not sure how to feel”. Crutchie placed a calming hand over Jack’s fidgeting one and opened his mouth to reassure his boyfriend when the well-meaning waiter interrupted. 

“Are you ready to order?”

They could discuss this at length later with fuzzy socks and a hot water bottle because, right now, Crutchie was fucking starving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please pLEASE feel free to yell at me here or on tumblr @the-world-will-no bc I thrive on comments


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